Broken Mirrors
by jayarnalabozzetta170799
Summary: "There are only so many times you can be broken before you're unfixable." Laurel has succeeded. She's won the games, for a price. But she doesn't feel very grateful. And as Laurel unwillingly unravels at the seams, she also breaks out of her chains. But Laurel can't see the beauty anymore. Can Jax show her just how beautiful the world really is, and how beautiful she really is?
1. Beginnings

***This is a rewrite***

_"Congratulations to the victor of the 69th Hunger Games, Laurel Rosary!"_

Nightmares plague my sleep, visions filled with bloody faces and acidic bubbling that make me scream with pain and horror. When I wake up, I'm sweaty and shaking, clammy tears dried on my cold face. My breaths are ragged and the only thought running through me head is _Why me? What did I do to deserve this?_

I shuffle to the dark kitchen. The table is still set and Seeder is sitting in a wooden chair, staring off into nothing.

I sit across from her, pulling my sweaty mess of chestnut hair away from my face, tugging at the long strands that are wrapped around my neck.

Seeder finally becomes aware of my presence, and I pretend not to notice her shining eyes.

"They are very happy with you." Seeder comments idly, buttering a piece of bread. She doesn't look at me.

"What? Why? I wasn't meant to win." I fold my shaking hands in my lap in an effort to calm myself. The night terrors are etched in my brain,_ carved in._

"No, Laurel, you weren't. But you were never an underdog. They hate underdogs. You were a second choice."

"Plan B." I snap sourly, then bite my cheek. I need to learn to shut up.

"Yes, well, they like you nevertheless. They like your looks. This is good for them, bad for you. Beauty is a curse, my dear." She attempts a smile, but it's weak.

I swallow. Her face is genuinely concerned.

So is mine.

I'm not beautiful. I was, back in the innocent days, before I was damaged and left out in the rain to malfunction. I used to glow with happiness, shine like an angel and smile with my eyes.

But after you have killed someone, you start to become ugly. You look like a demon, not an angel. When I look in the mirror now, I just see a monster, not a gorgeous victor.

"They are going to want you on show as much as possible on this tour."

I sigh quietly. Of course they do. I'm just a pretty little pawn. I was never meant to win. But they already have a plan in place for me.

But that's the problem. I did.

Seeder folds her aged hands in her lap, mirroring my stance. She even looks similar to me, with the same honey skin. I want more than anything for her to be my mother. Because Seeder is alive.

"I'm not sure what to say, Laurel. I was never in your position, not exactly. Of course I will help you, love, but I'm not sure how much help I will be."

This unnerves me. Seeder is so wise, and clever, and yet she doesn't know how to help me? I must be in deep. But was being dead in deeper? Or not? I have so many questions. I tell her this.

"I have so many questions."

"Go ahead dear." She encourages.

I think.

"I'm not sure any are answerable." I worry.

"Try me." She coaxed.

I eat some more soup. I ponder as I sip the thick stuff up. I don't know what this is. We don't have it in Eleven. I remember getting it from a sponsor in the Games though.

I push it away, the liquid sloshing. I've lost my appetite now. That wasn't a nice night.

"I'm not sure which question to ask you." I admit, my brows knitted.

"The easiest one." She smiles at me reassuringly. But it doesn't reach her eyes. And it's tired,_ she's_ tired. I laugh, but it's hollow and empty.

"When will we reach Twelve?"

She laughs now, and the stiff air feels lighter. "Tomorrow, we're only halfway out of Eleven."

I sit back. She can't answer any more of my questions. Not tonight.

Lili bursts in, rambling about something I do not care for.

Her hair is bright blue for this tour. She brushes past me and I resist the urge to shy away from her. She's done nothing wrong, but she looks like the colourful Capitolites that haunt my dreams lately, snatching at me with their blood stained hands.

There are weird butterfly shapes at the corners of her eyes, and I'm not sure if she's just applied it wrong, or it's meant to be like that, but her lipstick has run off the edges of her lips.

It looks like she's just drunk someones blood. I shudder. Since when is looking like an alien considered pretty? I remember thinking the exact same thing at the reaping. It feels like years ago.

* * *

_I play with the edge of my skirt. It's made of chiffon, and it swishes prettily as I walk. But it doesn't look pretty on me. It's too short, only just covering enough. My breasts are spilling out of the top, and I have already fought a battle with them, trying to shove them down so I look decent. But they stay as they are, and I can't change. This is the only dress I have. I guess Blake didn't think I'd get so tall when he sold the other ones. And didn't figure I'd fill out so much. I fold my arms over my chest._

_The crowd rustles around me, and I look up to see the bright orange person step up to the microphone._

_She's new. I guess they fired the last one. That offhand comment he made must of landed him in trouble._

_Her hair is like a lion's, orange and sticking in all directions; a mane. She looks horrible. She'd be quite pretty if she was just natural, but no. Her dress is patterned with leaves. I guess she's trying to represent our district._

_She turns to pull out the girls choice, and I can see her nose properly._

_She has whiskers. Oh god._

_This thought makes me almost laugh with the ridiculousness of the situation. But I'm stopped. Because then she calls out my name. I stumble up the stairs in shock, but I don't panic. I square my shoulders, look out at the large district, and avoid Blake's eyes._

* * *

I didn't panic at all. I'm good at stuff like that. Keeping my composure and a level head.

But my best skill is lying. I'm flawless, near perfect at it, and it comes in handy. And I have a sinking feeling that I'll need it more often now I've won the Games.

Later that night I enter my room, turning to lock the door behind me. Its become an automatic gesture, and this is sad. I should be able to sleep with my door unlocked. I should be able to sleep without a knife under my pillow. I should be able to sleep without the night light from when I was a baby on, and I should be able to sleep without waking up every other hour in cold sweats, the sheets twisted and my heart pounding, visions of carved faces and blood pounding in my head.

I don't realise I've been holding my breath until I let it out, the scented potpourri in the corner making me sneeze. I pick it up, yank the window open and hurl it out. I hear the bowls faint smash as we speed past.

I spend ages in the hot shower. We hardly get baths back home, and when we do, it's never hot. I'd only had my first hot bath after I was reaped.

I change into linen pants and a top, and start undoing my hair. It's pulled into a elaborate braid by Giovanna; one third of my prep team. The weight I hadn't realised was there lifts as I pull the pins out and I twist my aching neck around.

I shake out the kinky thick mess and fall into bed, worry and stress keeping sleep away. When sleep finally does comes, it's restless, and full of the repeated nightmares that never cease to scare me.

* * *

When I wake up, sunlight is streaming in, hitting my eyes. The curtains were left open after I threw the ceramic bowl out the window.

I can see snow. We've stopped, and I can see frost and thick layers of powdery white stuff hanging off thin branches.

It's pretty, but we have it in Eleven, occasionally. It's nothing special, just colder.

I try to extend my lie in as much as possible, but soon my prep team has entered my room, slamming the door loudly. Freesia yanks me out of bed and into the chair in front of my vanity.

Delcour rips at my hair, untangling the mess of knots. I would rather Giovanna, who's gentler. She thinks I am breakable. But I could kill her with my bare hands and she's not even scared. I'm scared of myself, and she's worried about my spilt ends.

Freesia somehow finds hair left on my body and begins ripping at it with sticky sheets of paper. They did it yesterday, but apparently there's some left. She then does what she calls a Brazilian, and this is horrible. _Why do I need that hair gone?_ I think._ Who's going to be looking there?_

It seems my eyes are going to be permanently watering today. They rip at every hair on my body, whether they are removing or roughly brushing it.

I'm shoved into the bathroom with strict instructions of no longer than a twenty minute bath. I am just glad they don't join me, like yesterday, where they washed me down and lathered my hair, as if I am incapable of washing myself properly. "_I'm sixteen!"_ I almost barked at them.

The shampoo smells like the orchids my mother used to put in vases around our old house, and the soap like strawberries. There is a glass bottle of something that smells like daisies, which I spray on myself. There's even apple scented moisturiser, which I'm told I must rub on. This reminds of the orchards at home.

I'm slick and hair free, smelling of a garden, looking like a plastic doll. I get out of the bathroom, and even though I didn't take more then fifteen minutes, they scold me.

I'm shoved in the chair again, and Giavona styles my hair in uniform ringlets while Freesia paints my nails and toes black.

Coal, I guess. Original.

Delcour paints my lips blood red, and this reminds me of Lili's lips yesterday. This is the point I begin to count backwards from three hundred, to stop myself from cracking and shrieking at them.

He rims my eyes with black, smokes them out, and I suddenly look like a vampire, or something else evil but alluring. The whole time they chatter loudly, filling my ears with trivial gossip about people I don't know. Freesia is the worst, squealing loudly in her annoying, sugary voice every time someone reveals something new.

They spend ages making my hair look perfect, and Delcour seems to find space for more black eyeliner. Somehow I don't look like a raccoon. My cheekbones are high, and my lips are pink and plump. Freesia puts thick black lashes on my eyes, and they become huge.

Then they leave, and I'm left sitting alone. I look wrong, sitting in my dressing gown, made up to the extreme.

Tatania sweeps in, a black gown bag and a hat box in her hands. She's silent, taking in the prep teams work, judging me. Then she fixes my chestnut hair, giving it more volume and messing it up a little.

I put the dress she's bought for me on. It's very heavy. A skirt with what seems like millions of layers, black edging bleeding into the orangey red. The top fits my curves perfectly, a tight corset with lace sleeves. My tan breasts are spilling out the top for the whole world to see. Black tights and knee high stripper boots.

I look gorgeous. Like a gothic sunflower, or a burnt out ember. My reddish brown hair suddenly has gold highlights in it, and I notice the gold dust on my eyelids.

I hate it.

I feel underdressed and overdressed at the same time. I want to wrap my arms over my chest, and rip the thick black choker off. I feel hot now, but I know when I get outside in the snow I'll be cold. Tatania finally speaks.

"It looks beautiful! Ooh, I am so happy with my work."

This is the way Tatania is. She never compliments me, just the clothes.

She pulls the right side of my hair back and clips it back with a fake black flower. It has little feathers sticking out of it. I resist the urge to rip it out and throw it on the floor in disgust.

"Mm, lovely. You're lovely." She coos to the skirt. "Now go eat something. Come back when you're done for a quick check."

I am an obedient little victor, so I walk out, my boots clunking. I feel the only thing missing from the outfit is one of my knives in my boots, but Seeder would kill me.

Speaking of Seeder, she sits at the mahogany table, not eating. When I walk in, she looks up at me.

I can't read her expression, but she doesn't look too excited. I get an urge to crawl into her lap and beg her to take us both home. She's like a second mother to me, and I know it's hurting her just as much to hear my screams of terror at night, and to watch me be turned into an icon of the Capitol's Games.

She's very patient with me today. I watch her ask me what I want for breakfast four times. It takes a while for me to process what she's saying. She gives up, and runs my speech lines back and forth to me. I've said them so many times I'm sure I'll remember it word for word ten years later.

I've been dreading this. This is only District Twelve, and the Capitol tends to dismiss it. I think it sounds better then Eleven, but the Capitol doesn't bother with it. So I can afford to stuff up here. No one will be paying a huge amount of attention.

The real reason I'm worried, though, is completely different. I'm sure I won't stuff up, because my lines are rolling off my tongue. But I want to thank the tributes from Twelve, but how can I?

Because I killed them.

* * *

**A/N:** Hi guys! So here's the very first chapter of my first story. (I have others, but they are collaboration work.) First of all, I want to say some things. I don't want to say too much, and this isn't completely necessary, so feel free to skip it. But I want to explain my motives for this story.

Firstly, I wanted to explore some of the characters in The Hunger Games in a little more depth. When I read stories, I tend to create characters to fit into things I find intriguing, so I can figure out what is happening behinds closed doors. You will understand what I mean a little later on.

Secondly, I wanted another perspective on what Katniss went through, at what was going on at the time. I will look behind closed doors and open them wide.

So with these things in mind, enjoy!

(I will also love you forever if you review.)


	2. Words

**A/N:** Another update! Let me know if three days would be alright? I'm a bit behind! And please review!

* * *

Well, I killed the boy. Seeder informs me the girl died from starvation and a wound from the blood bath.

His name was Lorenzo. I didn't know that when I killed him. I remember the girl was called Clara, and I remembered it because I thought it was a nice name. But I never remembered his.

* * *

_I sit in the tree, my heart pounding. I have a knife. It still has blood on it, blood from the dead girl I pulled it out of at the bloodbath. I feel sick that I stole something from a dead person, but I know logically that I actually got it from the blonde girl from One, and she doesn't deserve it anyway._

_I haven't been able to clean it, as I haven't found water yet. The pack I got is so utterly useless. It is taunting me. The sleeping bag is good, I guess, but the only thing I really needed was the bottle of water, and it was empty. _Is empty_. I feel like screaming in frustration. But I sit silently in the tree, my hand quivering as it grips my bloody knife. The footsteps get closer. I feel a drop of sweat slide down my face, despite the chilly night._

_I bite my lip and panic. What do I do? What if they look up and see me? What if, what if? I usually am more logical and calm, but I'm sleep deprived, freezing and nothing has past my lips since breakfast two days ago, right before we entered the Launch Room. I've been consecutively trembling since this morning, out of lack of water. Now it's heightened in fear._

_I wonder if the person crashing through the undergrowth can hear my bones rattling. It must be a guy. A girl could never make that much noise. Suddenly I realise how stupid he is; making so much racket at night when the Careers are prowling around. What's he going to do next, light a fire? A hysterical giggle escapes my lips._

_I really need sleep. I_ never_ giggle._

_I am solemn now. What if he actually does light a fire? The tree I'm in is sparse, I'm barely hidden. He won't see me is he keeps walking, not looking up. But if he lights a fire and the Careers come, I'll be dead. Killed right after him. Just another notch on their score card._

_He comes into view. He's from Twelve, I remember him standing next to Clara. She was friendly at training, but she's got no idea how to survive in the wild. She'll be dead soon. I can feel it in the hollow pits of my stomach._

_He takes in the space. It's clearer here, not so wild. That's why I decided to sleep here. I can sit in this tree and not let anyone sneak up on me._

_I guess he decides its a good place to stay too, because he settles down. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If someone comes, they will see him straight away. He'll get a knife in his back. He looks around, picks up some twigs and assembles them in a pile._

_He's lighting a fire._

_Oh no. I've jinxed it._

How stupid can you be?_ I think._

_My knife is violently shaking now and it feels like my heart is going to break my rib cage. I see a spark fly from the rocks he's cracking together._

_I panic. I frantically look side to side and adjust my position on the branch. Another spark flies._

_So does my knife._

_It hits him in the back. And in that moment I think how right I was, that he'd die with a knife in his back. I just didn't realise it would fly from my hands. He makes a strange gurgling noise and falls forward, rolling onto his side. He locks eyes with me. He stares at me, his killer. I must look a picture, my hands are over my mouth, my eyes wide with horror and shock. What have I done? He groans, then he's silent. His eyes are devoid of emotion. I hear nothing for a long second, then a cannon._

_"Oh my god."_

_My voice cracks at the last word. I know the cameras are trained on me right now, and all of Panem has heard my whispered words. So I collect my thoughts, shove them in a file in my mind labeled DO NOT OPEN, then slowly climb down the tree._

_I hurry to the body, knowing the hovercraft will arrive soon. I pull the knife out of his back, take his pack and sleeping bag, then pull his shoes off, stealing his socks and putting them over my freezing feet._

_Then I throw the sticks around randomly, and remove all evidence anyone was here. I slide the crusty knife in my belt, vowing to find water to wash it._

_Then I sip his water, closing my eyes as the cool water slides down my scratchy throat. I put it away, silently thanking him for braving the bloodbath and getting a pack. Now I have two of everything, and water. I hesitate, then lean down, and shut his eyes._

_"I'm sorry."_

_Then I walk away, leaving my first kill behind me as I find a new place to attempt sleep._

* * *

I step out in to the snow. Lili is skipping along ahead of us. I'm not sure how she does it in those heels. Seeder walks quietly beside me. There are Peacekeepers either side of us.

"Don't worry about saying something, Laurel. It's not expected if you weren't in an alliance together." Seeder says, taking my hand and squeezing it.

I relish in the contact. The last time someone, besides my prep team, have touched me was when Artemis hugged me. This was ages ago. Or it seems so.

"I do. He was the the first person I killed. He died for me, Seeder."

Not willingly, I think.

"Maybe you think you must, but no one expects it. You just give your speech. Do what feels right after that."

She thinks she doesn't know what to say, but she obviously does. She comforts me with these simple words, and I'm calm as we enter the building. I wait in the wings, taking in the neglected square. It's worse then eleven, although very similar, with the exception it's about the eighth of the size of my districts town centre. It almost looks ridiculous, the bright banners not hiding anything.

The mayor walks out first and introduces me. There's loud applause as I walk out, but I know it's feigned excitement. The mayor gives his speech, and I follow through flawlessly, concluding it.

Then I hesitate. If I don't speak now, my time to talk will be lost. I open my mouth, and direct these words to the two families of the lost.

14 year old Clara's only family is a young woman, a baby on her hip, a young girl hanging off her arm and a little boy hiding shyly behind her leg. The woman's too young to be her mother, she must be her sister. She's identical, just slightly taller and more aged.

Lorenzo's side is just an old man and woman, who are clinging to each other and looking at me sadly.

"I want to extend my thanks to the families of the fallen, and to the fallen, for giving their precious lives for my undeserving one. I also would like to say I am sorry, for saving myself, and not someone else more worthy of this position. I wish someone else could take my place. I would do anything for it to be one of your children. I never wanted any of this."

As soon as I close my mouth I know I have done something very wrong. I am supposed to look strong and happy to be their victor, not broken and wishing to be dead.

I try to look as though this is just an acknowledgement of the dead gone wrong, so I square my shoulders and smile. The old couple are not fooled though. They smile sadly at me. The girl, Clara's sister, just nods her head in thanks.

Then the old man presses three of his fingers to his lips and holds them up to me. His wife mimics me. I'm not sure what it is, but my heart clenches. It's a thank you, I know this. And I'm struggling to hold back the tears I've been holding back since they took me out of the quarantine cylinder after the Games.

_You wouldn't want this for them_, I think. _Clara and Lorenzo are better off dead._

But they know this. I am just a harsh reminder of what could have been a happy life.

The mayor steps up to the silence, saying a little something to end the ceremony. He gives me the plaque, which I graciously accept. He handles it well, and I shake hands with him and his family. His young daughter, who has beautiful long blonde hair, gives me flowers and shyly tells me she likes my dress. I smile, even though I think it's the most disgusting thing I've ever worn.

"What's your name?" I whisper to her, as the crowd begins to clear out to ready for the dinner.

"Madge." She says quietly. She can't be older then eleven. I pray to God that she won't be reaped. I already like this girl.

"Well, Madge, thank you. And that's a pretty pin." I finger the pin on her collar. It's gold, with a mockingjay in the middle. It's very pretty. It must be worth a lot.

"Thanks, it's my mums."

I look over to her mother, who's tiredly rubbing her temples, her face a sickly pale.

"Well, you better get back to your Mum, I have to get ready for the dinner."

I thank her again for the daisies, which are slightly shabby, but I love them anyway.

As soon as I get backstage Lili grabs them off me.

"I can get rid of these, if you want. They're all wilted." She wrinkles her nose. I snatch them off her. I'm in no mood for her pretentious Capitol attitude.

"No, Lili. I like these flowers, and anyway, someone took the time to pick these, and make them look pretty." I snap. I clutch them to my chest, feeling defensive toward this district. It reminds me off home, except with looser security and even less money.

She smiles agreeably and mutters an okay, but I know I've hurt her feelings. She's unnaturally quiet as she leads us to a room where I can change. Before she drops us there I apologise.

"Oh, Lili. I'm sorry for snapping at you. I am just a little nervous about the dinner."

This is a lie, but she doesn't seem to realise the weight of what I have said, how wrong it is, and that I'm in trouble. She's very sheltered, and young. She's just been brought up all wrong. The Capitol does this to their children. So Lili is purposefully not told bad news. Seeder, Tatiana and I all agreed on leaving her out of important things.

She seems mollified, but still slightly iffy, so I lay it on thick by giving her a hug.

"Oh, that's okay Laurel. I know you are nervous. But don't worry, you're gorgeous, they will love you."

I don't think being pretty will help anything. And coming from her, this is not really a valid compliment. The woman has blue skin.

Seeder hugs me too, enveloping me in warmth. She tells me one slip up is alright, that its only District Twelve, and I'm fine.

* * *

But not even her words combined with the hot shower calms me. I'm on edge, thinking about how I'm wasting Twelve's precious water supply. The earlier relaxed feeling I had is gone.

Tatiana has new orders for the prep team. Freesia swaps the black nail polish for a light purple, painting tiny little birds on each finger. Delcour spends ages getting rid of all the black eye makeup, then quickly dusts my eyelids with silver, and my lips with a light pink. Giovanna spends ages just drying my hair, then brushes through it even though there are no knots or tangles. She does something to make it sit in pretty waves, then braids the top half. The stupid flower accessory sits in trash.

They are excited for this dinner. They talk to me, ask me if they should wear their strapless dress or their green one. I answer whichever falls out of my mouth first, as my opinion seems invalid anyway. Delcour asks me if he should wear a purple tie or not, but I just tell him whichever he likes, but he doesn't even hear my reply.

Tatiana has to force them out the door this time. Giovanna is still playing with my hair, running her fingers through it. Delcour is brushing at my cheek with a product free brush, thinking wistfully, about ties, no doubt. Freesia is sticking a tiny gem at the corner of my eye. She's already re-stuck it in seven different places.

Tatiana booms at them, telling them to move it or she'll have them fired. I send her silent thanks, as my patience is wearing dangerously thin. They scurry out, and she shoves a garment bag into my hands. I slip the floaty halter dress on. This dress is slightly more subtle than the last. I'm still showing large amounts of skin, but my breasts are hidden under the purple material. I'm grateful for this. I'm sick of perverted old men staring at me like I'm available to them.

The dresses back plunges, and it's short, mid thigh. My shoes have ribbons on the side, and they twist around my calves. Tatania tells the clothes they look pretty again, then she shoves brackets up my arms. She fixes a few strands of hair, then quietly tells me that if Lili didn't notice my slip up, then no one important will. We both know this is bullshit.

Lili comes to get us, and she's giddy with excitement. She's forgiven me, and she takes my hand and prances next to me. Everyone's so touchy today, and it's unnerving.

When we reach the top of the stairs, she's all business. She lines us up, and Freesia is squealing happily at being first. Seeder winks at me, then smooths her outfit out. I breath, count backwards from ten, then breath again. The prep teams out. Then Lili. I wish for Blake. I need him here. Actually, I need Artemis. But I'm trying to break the habit of wishing for the impossible.

When I walk out, there is fake applause again, loudest of all. I step down the stairs slowly and gracefully, my face pulled into a dazzling smile, which is directed right at the cameras.

The meal seems to below the Capitols standards. Lili is not impressed. Freesia is not so excited anymore, Delcour seems to not be hungry, and Giovanna is picking at her food, asking me quietly if I would be angry if she didn't eat it. I tell her I won't, but she should make an effort. It's only polite. I am surprised when she eats half of it, then tells me she really can't have anymore.

Tatiana is the best. She eats everything, even though I can tell she doesn't like it.

She tells the waiters that the presentation is very nice, which from her is a rare and very generous compliment. The only thing she ever compliments is her own clothes. She even says a few words to Madge, and she's told me before that she despises young children.

The evening is lovely, although I can't enjoy it. There are so many things hanging over my head. The speech, Lili's horrible comment about the food, the fact that so much of the districts money is spent on this unnecessary event.

When I speak to people, I work in how happy I am to be alive, and prattle on about how grateful I'm am to the Capitol. It's all lies, but I'm fixing the damage I've done. I can only hope this relays back to the Capitol, and to Snow.

When I finally fall into bed that night, I'm exhausted. I drift off immediately, though I'm woken a hour later in a cold sweat, after watching myself throw that knife at Lorenzo again.

* * *

Did you notice that little titbit with Madge? I figure that her father would be the mayor back then. And Madge would have been eleven/twelve years old.

Also, if you haven't realised yet, the italics are flashbacks.


	3. Broken

The tour is turning me into a robot. It's the same routine every day. Get up, shower, be turned into a flawless version of Laurel. Then Tatiana dresses me in another beautiful creation; I can't deny she's absolutely amazing at what she does, then I attend a ceremony. They say a speech to congratulate me and it's all lies. Eighty percent of what people say to me lately is lies. I say my speech in thanks, but only ever what the Capitol has written. I have learnt my lesson. I attend their dinners, and they get grander and richer as we proceed through the districts.

Lili stops complaining, Seeder stops telling me everything will be alright because she's knows I know it's not. Giovanna stops asking me if I'll be angry with her if she doesn't eat and just eats. I stop functioning like a normal person and just do as people tell me. I'm losing myself, and I'm not making any effort to cling on to what's left.

My nightmares are more frequent, seeing the dead tributes of the district I've just been in.

Ten smells like manure and cows, and I feel nauseous the entire time I'm there. I despise cows.

Nine is full of polluted air from the bread factories. I feel suffocated in my lace dress that barely covers anything. I'm particularly scared here, as I killed the girl tribute. She was trying to stab me and I threw her at a tree in an adrenaline rushed moment. Her neck snapped and I had to kill her, to put her out of misery. That is one if the hardest things I've ever done.

Eight is worse, the air full of smog from the machines. There isn't a tree in the entire districts, just concrete and brick. Ever step I take as we are shown the factories is a fight not to run as fast as I can away from this cough inducing place. The worst thing is, I'm dreading seven so passionately I'm torn between staying or moving on, although I really don't have a choice.

The day we arrive in Seven I'm hysterical mess. Seeder comes in, knowing my state, and I begin to cry. It almost feels good. It's the first time I've cried since I won the Games. My chest bones are rattling with the force of my ripping sobs, and I have a moment. I scream at her to get out, then throw a number of vases at the wall.

"I can't stop seeing it!" I scream, my voice shaking.

I sink to my knees, the glass from the shattered vases digging into my shins. I feel it cut me, but it doesn't hurt.

Seeder catches my wrists as they begin to scratch at my eyes.

"Make it stop! Please!" I beg.

She holds me in her warm, strong arms, and I sob loudly for at least half an hour. She rocks me back and forth, stroking my hair and murmuring words into my ear.

When I finally stop crying, we are back into the usual routine. Lili tells us we must hurry, we are behind schedule from my little 'episode'.

I throw a vase at her. She screams, then begins shrieking about unsafe job choices and not enough pay.

This brings more crying on my part, and it seems as though I've kept a lot bottled up, and now I've taken the cork out, it doesn't fit back in.

There are more vases, and some statues thrown. A few bowls of that familiar soup are hurled at my prep team, and I even push Seeder into the wall, causing her to hit her head. This makes me cry even more, and I switch between profusely exclaiming that I'm sorry, and shrieking that they should just kill me now and get it over with.

When I finally calm down, I sit in the chair, shiny tear stains on my face. My eyes are huge, puffy and red. My lips and nose are swollen, and there is thick gashes and dried blood running down my shins. I can feel the pain now. Delcour has his own moment, swearing he will never touch me again. He storms out of the train, Freesia running after him, and I'm left feeling horrible. Dear, sweet Giovanna hugs me quietly, then tells me it's alright, she still loves me. I begin to weep, and her and Seeder pick out the pieces of glass in my shins.

She pretties me up all on her own. Lili hovers for awhile, pretending to help, but Seeder takes her away, leaving Giovanna and I alone.

"I love you too." I whisper.

Giovanna looks up from my caramel coloured thigh. She is drawing a leaf pattern there. I know it's a bit late to respond to her lovely words, but I must. She just nods and bites her lip, then gets back to it. Luckily I'm not getting a full transformation today, so we are still on schedule.

Giovanna dusts gold over my eyelids, then puts a lighter shade on my face. I'm glowing.

She paints my lips with just a touch of gloss. My nails are what she informs me to be a French tip, and I like it.

"Could you do this again before you leave?" I ask softly.

"Of course. Anything you would like, Laurel."

She then curls my long hair, so it falls down my back in a thick mass of scrunched ringlets. Then we have time, so she lightly covers my whole body with gold dust, so I shimmer.

Somehow, my eyes and nose aren't red and puffy anymore, and my lips are less swollen. She brushes back a rogue strand of hair then leaves, the door clicking quietly.

I silently thank her, then rush to the door and lock it. I'm not sure why I'm scared, but I am.

I have to open it a minute later for Tatiana, but she doesn't ask questions. She helps me into the tight dress. It's made of a skin coloured stretchy material that hugs my every curve. Embellished green vines and leaves, which just cover enough, twist over my body. The sleeves are green, big enough to be a skirt, and stop just above my knuckles. If I lift my arms it looks as though I have wings. Then a pair of brown knee high boots, and I wonder if I'm lucky or she had to use these because of the thick gashes on my legs. They look good with the outfit though, and even though I'm sick of dressing like a prostitute, these comfort me. They look like my boots at home.

* * *

So we leave, and I'm under control. I have a handle on it all now, and as I count backwards from five hundred, I relax with every number.

But I have to say something today. I was in an alliance with her, so they will be expecting it. And if it is expected, then it must be done. Seeder knows this too.

"What are you going to say?" She asks cautiously.

"I don't know."

I run a few things by her, and we work a little something out. Something safe. She quickly informs me the boys name was Sean, and he died in the blood bath.

When the mayor's saying his speech, I'm shaking in my boots. Literally. Even though my part falls out of my mouth, I stumble over words. And then I begin my thanks. I try not to look at her family, as I know I will break down again. But I do, and I see her famous brother, the victor of the 67th games.

She was somewhat of a story, being the sister of a previous victor. Would she become the second in a family to win?

Sadly, no.

He's similar looking to her. Same skin, same icy blue eyes. His hair not black though, it's a honey with flecks of dark brown. Her mother, Evelyn, has stringy blonde hair and distant grey eyes. She hinted that her mum wasn't all there.

I didn't think it would hurt this bad. Her family is gorgeous.

* * *

_I'm in a tree again. This ones foliage is denser and thicker, and I'm much more hidden. I almost had a heart attack when the Careers walked past a little while ago, but they didn't see me. The blonde girl from One; I heard someone call her Dynasty, looked around in the trees, but didn't see me._

_Dynasty. What were her parents thinking? _

_I settle down, using my knife to carve a branch into a handle. I've already done the rock, so when I finish this I will have another knife. _

_"I hope you aren't going to kill me with that."_

_I gasp and almost fall out of the tree. Luckily I don't, since I'm about twenty feet off the ground. I look around, searching for the place the tinkling voice came from. _

_"Nuh-uh. You have to promise you won't throw that at me. I saw you at the blood bath. You have impeccable aim."_

_I take a breath. _

_"What district are you from?" I ask._

_"Fair enough. Seven."_

_Her. The legacy. I look around again. She must be out of eyesight. _

_"Will you kill me?" I ask. _

_"Not anytime soon." She says with a laugh._

_"Ok. I won't kill you any time soon either."_

_Then I see a head poke around the trunk. All I can see is a pair of light blue eyes and black waves. _

_"I'm sorry," she says. "I don't know your name."_

_"Laurel. I don't know yours either."_

_"You're from Eleven, right?"_

_"Yes." I'm wary as she scales down the tree, settling herself in the branch. Her eyes are bright as she sticks her hand out. _

_"Artemis."_

* * *

I look out and open my mouth.

"I only spoke to Sean a few times. But he was lovely. You should be proud. He was very brave, and died himself."

I look to Artemis's family. Her brother looks forlorn. What was his name? I can't remember.

"I did know Artemis. She was a beautiful person, and I still consider her a best friend. Her precious life will be dearly missed among many."

I feel I need to say more, but I know it will just lead to trouble. Snow has already warned me that Artemis is a martyr to a few districts. I must squash this. I must be the one they wanted to win.

And suddenly I remember her brothers name. Jax, short for Jaxson. He looks at me, his face disappointed. He expected more.

So did I.

"Wait! Uh, I loved her. As a friend, of course, well..actually, as a sister. She was...indescribable. But you all saw her. She stood on that huge screen I'm sure they put in this square every year, and you watched her. She was worthy of victory. But she was tragically killed...so I hope that you will accept me as your second choice. But she was my first too."

This is good. I've hidden behind fancy words, but Jax's eyes show understanding. He knows what I have said. I don't even think Evelyn was listening, but I don't think she even knows why she's here. _I hope Snow is satisfied,_ I think.

The rest of the ceremony goes to plan. I fake happiness, smiling and making sure it reaches my sea green eyes. They all have no idea of this morning, and that I'm a broken little girl, mourning many deaths and being uncertain that I will ever stop.

The dinner is also uneventful for a while, until Jax comes up to me and thanks me. He doesn't say what for, but I know what he means. But I have more to say to him, so I grab his wrist and, with a dazzling smile, ask him to dance with me.

He looks ready to say no, but I incline my head towards the dance floor and give him a look.

So I do what I vowed I wouldn't. Over the tour, many men have come up to me and asked for a dance. I turn them all down politely. I really mustn't, I say, my ankle is still healing and I'm tired from the long day. These are lies, but I've become so frequent with the practice that I am flawless, and they wander away without question.

I can see their eyes prowling on me. By dancing with Jax I've made myself available. But I ignore it for the time being. Regret will come later.

"I would like to say, Jax, that I wish I could say more about her, but.."

I bite my lip, and I can feel the lip gloss wear away.

He nods. Then he speaks, his voice has a slightly husky tone.

"I get it. I was in your position two years ago, I know you have to be careful. I understand."

"What about your mum?"

"She hasn't even realised. She still tells me to go wake Artemis and get bread for dinner every day when I wake."

I bite my lip again.

"Thats horrible, to have to deal with this on your own."

He nods, and he looks so like Artemis that it scares me.

"I want you to know, I want to die. I hate this, it's horrible. I wish the Careers had killed me. That I hadn't fought back."

He looks sad.

"Everyone thinks that, even the Careers realise it at one point. You just have to stand tall and deal with it. It's hard though, right?"

I nod. "Pretty much."

"Yeah, the victory tour is pretty bad. The dead are fresh in your head, and you're so guilty about all of it. So they send you to meet their parents. Idiots. It's just like clawing at fresh wounds. And you cry and scream at your horrific dreams, and then you feel weak. That's my advice. Don't let yourself feel weak. You're allowed to cry."

"It feels like you're the only one who understands." I say.

I think about the red gashes down my legs, and my breakdown this morning.

There's a tap at my shoulder.

"May I cut in?" A man, at least forty, says. He isn't even looking at my eyes. He's focused on the almost bare mounds on my chest.

God no, I think.

"Sure." I say.

I give Jax an apologetic smile, then dance with the man. Then two more men. Then ten more. They become a blur. I'm ready to snap when there is another tap on my shoulder. I turn to see Jax. He hands me some paper, then walks away.

The paper in folded, the front reading 'Open in private'. I finish the dance, but my inviting smile is gone now, and only a bold few bother to ask for a dance. I turn them down, and when the song finishes, I stalk off to the bathroom.

The note just has a phone number on it, with a tiny scrawled note underneath.

_Ring me, if you want. If you need someone to talk to, someone who does understand, then I'm never busy. If you want. Maybe._

It's awkward, but it couldn't be more beautiful.

This, of course, makes me cry. I'm a emotional mess today. Then I sit in the bathroom until Giovanna comes to find me. She fixes my makeup, then I go back outside.

I cry myself to sleep that night. Despite what Jax said, I do feel weak. Like I'm letting them win.

I'm not going to let them win.

**A/N: Hey! Sorry for the lack of updates. I actually had a life this weekend lol. I am also going to always my author note on the bottom, because I hate reading it at the start when I just want to get into the story. **

**So, as always, read, enjoy and review! **

** Jay**


	4. Memories

It takes me till district four until I cave. After I come back from the first career district of the tour, I feel disgusted. It's beautiful, you can't deny that, with the big blue seas and houses on rocky cliffs. But I also see the Careers training centre.

After dinner, I feel nauseous, and when we get back to the train, all I can think about is how little twelve year olds are trained there to kill innocent kids. I am sitting on my bed, sipping water and trying to calm my twisting stomach. I have to run to the toilet though, and I almost trip on the rug near the bathroom. I retch up everything I've eaten that day, and probably yesterday too. My face is dripping with a sheen of sweat as I flush the toilet. But I can't bring myself to leave the bathroom, so I just slide down the wall, my legs shaking. I feel a lump forming in my throat.

All those kids, becoming assassins. They actually volunteer for it. I wonder what they feel like after the win. Glory, I guess.

So I call him, crying a little.

He asks me if I'm alright. This throws me. No one asks me how I'm feeling anymore.

"I think I'm okay. I'm not thinking about the different ways to kill myself anymore, so I'm getting better."

He's silent for ages.

"Jax? Are you still there?"

I look down at the phone. Maybe I pressed something. I've never used a phone before. Seeder had to show me how to type the numbers in.

"Yeah." He says with a sigh. "You really were thinking about the different ways to kill yourself?" He asks in a worried tone.

"Yes. But I'm not anymore. I'm okay. I think. I'm getting better. Although I think I have food poisoning." I say with a groan, holding my abdomen.

"Food poisoning?" Now he sounds even more worried.

"Yeah. I just spent half an hour wrapped around the toilet. Must of had some fish that was a little off."

"What are the different ways?"

"What?"

"To kill yourself."

My mouth drops open. I wasn't expecting him to ask that. "Why?" I ask.

"Curious."

"Don't be. They aren't good thoughts. I promised myself I wouldn't do it. It would really kill Blake, my brother. My dad killed himself." I say, and suddenly I'm crying again.

"Oh Laurel, I'm sorry."

"He was amazing, you know. Loved my mum so much. I can remember this one bit, when they were dancing around our living room, all happy and laughing, and he said to her that she was his everything. Hung himself. I can still remember finding him." I sniffle, and wipe my leaking eyes. "Sorry, I'm being a bit open book, aren't I?"

"Not at all. I can't imagine what it would be like. How old were you?"

"Nine. I'm sorry, I can't..." I break into a louder sob.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it."

I cry into my hand. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I could save her, Jax. I'm sorry she didn't get to come home to you. I'm so sorr-" I sob louder.

"Shh. Laurel. It's okay." He sounds panicked. "If it couldn't be her, it'd have to be you. You deserve it. Although not really, because to live this life isn't living at all. Shh. Stop crying, love. You're scaring me."

"I can't." I sniffle. "Talk about something trivial to distract me."

"Okay, um... I don't know." I picture him looking around his room. "Goldfish!"

"What?" I say with a watery laugh.

"I have a goldfish. His name is Gary."

I laugh again. "Gary the goldfish. Original."

"Hey come on! It suits him! He's a lovely fish."

"I'm sure he is."

We talk about the districts, and he asks me where I am.

"Just out of Four." I answer

He tells me after three it just gets harder.

Two is just steel stone buildings and a huge rocky mountain. Its streets filled with blood thirsty citizens, he tells me. I wonder aloud if they are all like that, but he shoots me down quickly. I imagine he had some bad experience with Two.

Then he says one is full of huge white mansions and blue eyed blondes.

This is exactly how I pictured Dynasty living, in a huge mansion with twisty marble staircases and crystal chandeliers.

* * *

_"I bet they have servants."_

_Artemis cocks her head at me, her black curls falling over her blue eyes._

_"I bet they do. But not everyone with money acts like spoilt brats."_

_I remember her brother being a victor._

_"I don't mean that. She just seems horrible."_

_She silently nods in agreement, then nibbles at the pigeon leg. The birds in this arena are tiny. No turkeys or chickens here. It's hard enough, having only tiny things for food, but we've encountered three mutts already. A huge bird that slashes at flesh with its gigantic claws; Artemis still has a scar in her arm from that one. There was a tiny butterfly, which bit her four times before we squashed it. Although the wounds on her face are small, she said once they sting like crazy._

_And a rabid squirrel, which bit me in six places on my leg before we squashed it. The tiny wounds are still oozing with green pus._

_But they don't seem to be hard to kill. As if they are only there to injure us._

_This arena is weird. The cornucopia sits in the middle of a small clearing, and behind it is a huge building, crumbling and covered in vegetation. Anyone who ventures in there would be a goner. The whole time I was standing on the metal plate I could here the roof collapsing._

_The forest around it is thick, and it's more like a jungle. The air is thick and sticky with dense humidity. But there are no big animals. It's meant to look like a dead city, devoid of life, driven to become wild._

_To me, it's a symbol._

_I'm no idiot. The 69th games are meant to be special. It's not a Quell year, but it might as well be._

_There has been news of a few districts getting restless. So they create an arena that could well be District Thirteen, a ruined city, that was destroyed by them, made to remind us of who is stronger._

_Then Artemis. A victors sister. She was no coincidence. I'm only fifteen, so my memory of Jax's games isn't amazing, but I can't remember anything worth killing his sister for._

_There is always behind the scenes though._

_And two mutts that have attacked us, but not killed us? Making us ripe to be killed without creating martyr's._

_Snow is a mastermind. Even the sea around this arena is symbolic. It goes forever. There must be somewhere it stops, but you wouldn't get very far anyway. I dipped my jacket in to wash it, and it disintegrated in my hands._

_It's acid. Pure acid. There must be something in it to colour it blue, but I knew I could see a tinge of yellow._

_It means there is _no_ escape. That we must work in our districts, going around in the same place time after time. The acid represents the Capitol, it's power over our districts, and for me, the thirty feet electric fence surrounding Eleven. No way out._

_I sigh and nibble at the meatless bone of the pigeon. The pigeon meat is gone, but I'm not done. This is standard for me though, living in 'poor old Eleven', as Caesar Flickerman so lovingly put it in my interview._

_Artemis wraps the bones in leaves and stores it all in her backpack. We are heading back to the ocean. We figure with the Careers tailing us we could use it to our advantage._

_This plan worries me though. It's not very reliable, although Artemis says she will be careful. With a pair of nines in training, we are obvious targets though. We make a quarter of the final eight. The Careers are going strong. Dynasty from One, Cole and Ivy from Two and a girl from Four._

_The outlying districts have four left too; us, a boy from nine; a huge seventeen year old that is on a killing spree, and Willow, a small thirteen year old from eight. If its not me or Artemis, I want Willow to win._

_The Careers have seemed to forgotten about her. But I know Nine hasn't, he seems to be wheedling us off in sections, small and weak first. We will be next._

_As we walk back to the sea, my leg aches with every step. I got a tiny tube of medicine from a sponsor to apply on the squirrel slashes and although it still hurts, it's getting better._

_I didn't even think I had sponsors. Artemis tells me that anything higher than a seven gets at least a single sponsor though._

_"What did you do to get a nine?" She asks._

_"Just threw some knives around. I did eight at once." I shrug, but I'm slightly proud. The most I've ever did was six._

_Her jaw drops. I giggle for the second time in my life._

_"Eight? At once?!"_

_I nod._

_"How the hell?"_

_"I put one in between a few fingers, then kinda juggle them. If I concentrate I can throw each one at a different time, so they all land in a pattern, all in an order. I made an eleven."_

_She grins at me._

_"That's genius!"_

_"Well, what about you?"_

_She puts a finger to her lips._

_"Come on! I told you!"_

_She leans over and whispers in my ear. It's so low no one will hear it._

_"Nothing. You earned that nine. Jax earned mine. All I did was cut a few dummy's heads off with my katana. Well, I threw the sword, but it was still only worth a six or seven."_

_She looks sad, so I give her hand a squeeze then lean back and laugh. I can hear the hollowness, but I know no one else can. I have always been a good actor._

_"That's hilarious! How'd you think off that?"_

_She smiles and waves her hand nonchalantly._

_"Wasn't hard, love."_

_We let it go. I'm not in the mood for playing along for the Capitol._

_We reach the sea in an hour. I hurl the bones in, and we watch as they disintegrate into nothing._

_"I don't think I could push someone into there."_

_I look at her. I don't think I could either, but lately I've been questioning my innocence._

_"We'll only do it if we have to."_

_We settle down far away from the sea, still wary. They are coming for us, but not quickly. We didn't leave any clues to where we are, so they will be wandering around for ages. There has been a feast, but we don't have anything we need desperately, so we didn't go._

_I'm dreading the break up. I don't want to leave her and be alone again, drowning in silence and loneliness. I always thought I was better alone, but being away from all human contact has proven difficult._

_There is a rustle in the bush, then a twig snapping. Artemis' face goes white, waxy like a candle. We both shoot up, and even though I'm the most injured, I'm up first, a knife in each hand._

_She holds her spear high, and I run my fingers over the carvings in the knife handle that I made when I was bored yesterday._

_A tiny little head pokes out if the bushes._

_A white rabbit looks up at me, its wide eyes glistening with fear._

_Artemis lowers her spear and coos. I'm not so stupid, keeping my knife high._

_And it leaps. It's mouth opens and it bares unnatural fangs. It latches itself onto my face with razor sharp claws and slashes down my cheeks and chest. As blood pours into my eyes, I fight to tear it off my face and as soon as I get it off, I run blindly away from it._

_My automatic reaction is to curl up in a ball and cradle my face in between my knees. So I do._

_I can feel the warm blood seeping into my pants as my face screams at me in pain. I can feel a burning sensation somewhere on my toe, but it's so insignificant in comparison to the feeling on my face. I hear a grunt, then a squish of punctured skin. Then two more. The malicious snarls stop, and a hand pulls me up._

_"Jesus Laurel! Your shoe is in the acid!"_

_She yanks me away, and I moan in agony._

_She examines my face, but I can't see her. My eyes are squeezed shut. The blood is drying and I feel sick. I want to wash my face in the sea, but then my face will melt off._

_Everything for the next hour is black. I am half awake as she cleans my face with damp cloth; my extra pair of socks. Every time she touches my face, I whimper softly._

_"No.." I moan._

_Attacked by a bunny. I feel so embarrassed, although I know it's a mutt._

_When she finally tell me to open my eyes, I can't. They are glued shut with blood._

_By the time I prise them open, the bright light and the horrific pain on my face makes me hurl._

_I sit on the sand, vomiting up nothing as Artemis strokes my hair. The world spins, and I dry reach again. My stomach is hollow, but my brain tells it to empty itself. So I am left gagging, the pigeon leg and the one gulp of water long ago passed my throat._

_Soon my face numbs slightly, but this is worse, because now I can feel the wounds on my arms, and the bites and slashes on my chest. I black out over and over again, before I finally fall into a sleep full of pain and fog._

_When I wake, it's late afternoon. Artemis is looking at me, her eyes full of worry and fear. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her cheeks are tear stained. I look worse though. I just know it._

_We are sitting on the sand, my head in her lap. My hair has fallen loose, and it's full of matted, dry blood and tangles. She looks scared of the forest now, and I don't blame her. But I know she's just as scared of the acid water. We are sitting in the exact middle. The yellow tinged water sparkles innocently._

_I can't talk, my throat aching for water. She hands it to me silently, then answers my unasked question._

_"You blacked out two days ago. I've been keeping watch. A few more rabbits came back, but I stabbed them. Threw them in the water so I didn't have to look at them. I guess the Capitol was bored."_

_"Deaths?" My voice is husky and dry from the misuse. Speaking burns._

_"They killed the boy from nine. I'm guessing he killed Four first, because she's gone too. Then they killed him. That little girl is still out there. I'm starting to worry about her."_

_Yesterday I would of been overjoyed at the news. But we agreed we'd split at six, unless we had a plan to kill the Careers. But we don't, and I'm injured. The longer we are together, the harder it is to split. She should just let me die and fend for herself._

_I tell her this._

_"No way Laurel! I'm not leaving you anywhere! You're my friend, not just my ally. I'm not letting you die."_

_That night I try to stay up to keep watch, as I can see the purple bags under her eyes. But my eyelids droop shut, my face still pounding with hot blood. I wake her up, and tell her to keep watch. I feel horrible, but if one if us doesn't stay awake then we might just roll into the acid._

_I wake to screams. Terrified screams. My face still pounds but I ignore it. She's gone. It's her screams._

_Oh god._

_I race towards the forest, my knives already between my fingers. But fear makes you stupid, and they hear me crashing through the vines. When I reach them, Cole grabs me automatically in an unbreakable hold. I thrash, but it's no use. He's huge._

_Dynasty has her pinned on the ground. Her face is dripping with blood. It's like mine was when the rabbit attacked me, but with more precision._

_She's been carving her face out._

_I thrash harder, somehow shoving a knife in Cole's leg. He groans and loosens his hold, but Ivy is there in a second._

_She's just been watching, but now she holds me back._

_"Artemis!" I cry. "NO!"_

_Artemis has stopped screaming. I realise that Dynasty has done it to her arms and legs too. No wonder there's so much blood._

_Her eyes are still open, but they are like a empty street, dead and emotionless. Her chest is hardly moving._

_I start to cry. Ivy is weaker then Cole though, and I have a new wave of adrenaline. I twist around and stab her in the stomach. She falls instantly. A cannon sounds, but I hardly hear it. Cole is limping, so I just kick his leg, right on the wound._

_He doubles over, moaning, holding the wound that is gushing out a river of blood._

_And this is where I make my mistake._

_I run._

_And get away. I live. But she doesn't. There is another cannon, she's finally gone, and just like that, I am in the final four._

* * *

After District Three, I call Jax everyday. There is no silences, and we always talk for hours.

After District 2, I knock on Seeders door.

It's midnight, and when she answers she's groggy. Her face is sweaty, and she looks like she's just woken from a nightmare. She just lets me in though. I crawl into her arms and we lie in bed together.

"Laurel?"

"Mm?"

"Please try. For me. You're unraveling, I can see it. And your not even trying to stop."

She finishes, her voice pleading and helpless. My heart aches for her.

"I'll try." I say, but it's a lie. I have no intention of trying. But I don't have the energy to lie, and it's weak. She sees right through it.

"Come on, Laurel. Humor me."

"I want to be dead." I say, my voice emotionless. I thought I was getting better. I didn't lie to Jax, but I'm back where I started. Depression in its worse form

She's silent, then she sniffles.

I roll over and smile weakly. A tear falls out her eye.

"No, Laurel, please don't say that."

"What? You never thought about it?"

"Maybe, but I didn't have someone to love me. My father was cold, my mentor was rarely sober. My mother was dead. No friends._ I'm_ here for_ you_."

At any other time, I would have cried. But I'm all cried out. I can't muster tears. Just a small smile.

I reach out and envelop her in my arms. And sleep carries us away like this, holding each other as a mother and daughter would.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! So this will be the second last chapter of the tour. After this the story will really begin to progress. Love you all! So read, enjoy, and always, review!


	5. Conversations

The Capitol looms, the huge buildings dipped in neon colours entering my dreams. Except the people aren't people; they are mutts, like the rabbit, ripping at my face with their claws, the horrific green faces burning my eyes.

* * *

_The final three. Dynasty, me and the little girl from Eight._

Girl power. _I think sarcastically._

_Cole died last night. I don't know why. Maybe it was the wound I made that finally carried him away into death. But I know one thing. She's coming. She's going to kill me then just stab that little girl. Easy._

_So I do the same. I'm coming for her. All I'm seeing is red; Artemis and her bloody carved face. The only other thing in my mind is the occasional "_No"_ echoing in my head._

_It throws me off when the cannon sounds. Is it the little girl? Or Dynasty?_

_I just head back to the Cornucopia. Either she's there, and I'll kill her, she's not and I'll just stock up on stuff. Or maybe Eight killed her. I can't kill a thirteen-year-old._

_But she's not. I reach the Cornucopia in a few minutes, as I'm quite close. I can hear something walking through the jungle, so I scale a tree. I watch Dynasty walk past, a sour look on her face._

I'm going to get you._ I think._

_I wait a little while before jumping down. I sprint to the Cornucopia and hide behind a stack of weapons. I sift through, keeping an eye on the opening. I can just see the crumbling building, and I can hear the bricks inside collapsing._

_One and Eleven must be going crazy; with an underfed girl from the worst part of Eleven casually rummaging through the Cornucopia, and the rich blonde from most likely the best part of One wandering around in the barren forest._

_But the Capitol will become bored, and she will come running back, probably a horrific mutt in pursuit._

_I don't want this, so I pocket the knives into the belt I clipped on before and sling a sheath containing a thick sword over my shoulder._

_I head the quickest way I know. I leave clues, stomping to make footprints. I eat an apple and then chuck the core on the ground. I eat another, then stop. I don't want to be weighed down._

_Over time, I drink a whole bottle of water and then drop that._

_I have no need to leave clues. She's just as smart as me, and she's already there, wandering down the beach._

_Although I don't think she knows what I know._

_I watch her from the bushes, calculating my next move. I can just throw a knife in her back, but then I won't have the satisfaction of a good fight. But fights are stupid and dangerous._

_I guess I'm stupid and dangerous too._

_I throw a knife at her arm. It hits its mark, as always. I started throwing knives at the age ten. In Eleven, I get the high fruit on the trees by throwing cutters up, if there isn't anyone small enough. The cutters are blunt, just sharp enough to cut the stem, but I never miss._

_She screams._

_I laugh._

_I'm probably crazy. That's not surprising._

_"Ooh, watcha got there, Blondie?"_

_She turns, her face twisted in an expression mixed with pain and fear, and her eyes full of malicious hate._

_She yanks the knife out and charges. She's quick and I'm not expecting it. She lands on top of me, her knife in her hand already. She rips the belt of me, and I hear the sword snap behind me under my weight. _

_"Funny isn't it? How you'll be beaten by your own weapon of choice?"_

_"Doubt it." I spit. "I'm surprised you even were accepted into the Careers. An eight in training? Useless."_

_She snarls, a ripping sound that rattles us both._

_Then she puts her forearm against my throat._

_"Then why am I about to kill you?" she says, her face twisted into a sneer._

_"You aren't."_

_She's not as smart as I thought. I still have my knife, the average little dagger I made when I met Artemis, in my back pocket._

_I twist, reach in and grab it._

_It's easy. Dynasty has probably been starving herself since she was ten, a poor decision based solely on vanity. She's tall, same size as me, but she's as light as a feather._

_I pull it out, shove it in her thigh and then rip it out._

_She screams, a horrified scream, then she loosens her grip on my neck._

_I flip us both over and slap her._

_"You know what that's for. And don't be so jealous. Just because I'm better then you. An eight." I scoff. _

_She groans and starts to wriggle. I let her up. She charges, an animalistic shriek escaping from her pretty pink lips._

_Then I push her into the water._

_Another scream. Her scream is really annoying, high and girlish._

_She doesn't know it's acid though, and she screams again, louder, when she realizes the water is eating away at her skin._

_I can't help but watch her waste away._

_It's disgusting. She lets out a strangled gurgle and then there's a cannon. All I can see is festering skin and blonde hair, with a greenish tint. Acid does that. __  
_

_"Congratulations to the victor of The 69th Hunger Games, Laurel Rosary!"_

_I sink to my knees, the sand digging into my knuckles. I don't feel like laughing anymore._

_I drink some water and wait. I can still hear the acid bubbling, swallowing up her body. I know they won't let me out until she finally is gone. Sick. They are so sick._

_Twenty minutes later, after the body finally stops gurgling, the hover craft arrives. _

_By this time, I'm crying. Even though it has stopped, I can still hear the gurgling and the acidic sizzling in my head. I rock back and forth in the hovercraft, my hands planted firmly over my ears. _

_"It won't stop. Make it stop!"_

_They shove me in a cylinder. I'm in there for hours, and every so often they spray a different chemical in here. I scream and slam myself onto the glass until I catch my reflection. My face is still bloody from the rabid rabbit, and my hair is red with dry blood, matted into a huge knot. My eyes are black and thick with gunk._

_I scream__ at myself and then burst into tears. The sound of the acid eating away at her skin is volumised now, turned up all the way. It's all I can hear. Crackling skin._

_"Make it stop! PLEASE!" I beg._

_So they take me out and stab me with a huge needle._

_Everything goes black._

* * *

The train is fast, and I used to like this.

The quicker we get there, the faster it's over. But now I wish it was slow. I don't want to see the Capitol again, even though Eleven is next.

I am excited for Eleven. A huge feast for all, and I'll be home.

But the Capitol means more exhaustive acting and calculated lies with every word. And I am tired. More tired than I've ever been in my life, even after those nights in the arena of sleeping with one eye open.

This weight on my back could be feather light, but the longer I carry it, the heavier it gets.

The train is still racing along when Giovanna comes in, Freesia following after her. She relented in Four, stating that she better get to work, or I'll never look decent again. Delcour hasn't abandoned his strike yet, so when he joins the girls a few minute later, I'm shocked.

I don't say a word though and just give him a little nod. He nods back.

I'm getting the full treatment today.

I'm plucked at and re-waxed, then shoved in a bath full of something smelling cloyingly sweet. It's a putrid pink colour, and it feels disgusting.

They apply a bright blue face mask and then stick cold, wet patches on my eyes.

For an hour I am blind, while I'm poked and prodded in places I haven't even touched before. Giovanna washes me down with another sickeningly scented product and then rubs in something that burns my already raw skin.

Freesia rubs nine different products in my hair, and my scalp feels violated. She then blow dries it while I'm still in the tub, and Delcour does my nails, the only job he'd agree to.

After the eye patches and face mask are taken off and I get out of the pink slime, I feel very fresh.

The smell that is following me is not fresh though, and I keep sneezing. They get frustrated with me and Delcour storms out again. I just ignore him. Freesia rubs my body down with another scented product that's very strong, and although I don't like the smell, I stop sneezing.

My bronze skin is covered in that gold dust again, and I hear Freesia call it honey dust.

My hair is styled for ages, but when I'm shown it, it looks just wavier and less of a mess than my natural hair. Then she parts it over to the right, so it sits over my left eye.

Freesia paints my lips a dark red and my eyelids black and sultry. My dress will be red- I just know it.

Giovanna leaves me with a kiss on the cheek and a good luck. Freesia waves excitedly and skips out. The girl has the mannerisms of a five-year-old.

Tatiana is somber and doesn't once tell the crimson gown how pretty it is. It has a very low back and a long slinky skirt that clings to every part of my body. It is glittery but not tacky.

She styles the hair on the left so it hangs better. Then she adds a bit more lipstick, a diamond bracelet and a pair of diamond chandelier earrings.

Before she leaves, she hugs me. She might be slightly eccentric and cold, but I am very glad I got a stylist with a head on her shoulders and a very good brain in that head.

I'm glad she also didn't dress me like I was going to a costume party, and even though the necklines were a little low, and the skirts were a little short, she kept it classy, not trashy.

Then she whispers in my ear that it has been an honour and "Good luck tonight."

Then, with her hand on the door handle, "Laurel, you look lovely. But don't you always?"

Then she's gone, and I'm left standing in the middle of the room, my mouth wide open.

"Wow."

I whisper, my voice shocked. The first time I've ever heard her compliment anything beside her own clothes is when she told the waiters in Twelve that the presentation was nice. And I know that was a lie on my benefit.

But this...this is genuine.

This perks me up slightly and gives me extra strength. I know I'll need it.

The ball room is massive. Bigger than the massive warehouses we have in Eleven. Massive tables adorned with luxurious plates of food are picked at by what I guess is the Capitol elite.

Freesia is almost peeing with excitement at being invited to such an event and keeps thanking me for winning. She reminds me of a hyper chihuahua.

Swirling couples twirl around the marble floor. I pick at dishes, trying to look too busy to dance. But the men in the Capitol aren't shy like in the Districts, and one, a huge man in a suit too small for him, all but whisks me away without question.

I thank my late father for teaching me to dance when I was seven.

He crosses the line by putting his hand on my bum. Then he squeezes it. I try to just let it slide, but then when he begins on my breasts, I step away.

"Sir, please. Let's just dance."

He huffs and then he relents.

We finish the song, and it's the only one I manage to complete. It's worse than Seven. I'm barely through a third of a song before another man cuts in.

I see Snow before he sees me. He stands with a champagne flute in his hand, just looking around as a man chatters away next to him. I know he's searching for me. This makes my stomach do flips. I begin to lead the dancing, pulling my many partners with me as I sneak away from Snow's gaze.

But he finds me soon enough, and he requests a dance. I look straight into his snake-like eyes and smile.

"Of course, President Snow."

He's very polite and keeps his hands in appropriate places, and although it's the cleanest dance I've had all night, it's the worst.

"Any reason for the visit?" I ask casually.

"You're just all business, aren't you?" he says with a small smile.

"I'm just trying to figure out your intentions."

"I just want to dance, Miss Rosary."

I give him a disbelieving look. He sighs.

"Actually I did want to speak to you privately, although I would like to finish our dance first. You are a very good dancer."

So we do. Then I follow him out onto a wide balcony off the ballroom.

"Miss Rosary, you seem to have a number of admirers tonight. Actually, it seems like it's every night. I've never seen someone from Eleven who looks like you. Turquoise eyes and lighter skin than most."

"My mother grew up in Four."

"Really? You do look quite similar to a certain victor from Four. Almost like siblings, actually."

"Yes, I've been told." Freesia says this all the time.

"Yes, like I said, lots of admirers. Just like Mr. Odair. It seems every man in this room, married or otherwise, is vying for your attention. I assume your feet are quite sore from dancing."

My feet are killing me, and these six-inch black platforms aren't helping. But I would never admit to this.

"Not really. I guess I just have a lot of practice."

He smiles, and I smile back, using my camera smile. The inviting smile that dazzles everyone. They don't even notice my dead eyes. Too busy looking elsewhere.

Snow does notice though, raising an eyebrow, but he doesn't comment.

"Are you comfortable with all the attention?"

I think this question over. I am definitely not comfortable, but what is the right answer?

"Comfortable, yes. Although I wish they'd stop."

"Why?"

"I don't want it. Let them appreciate just their wives and girlfriends. I do not thrive with attention, I guess I am saying. But it doesn't overly bother me."

I don't even know if this is possible. It does bother me, massively, and if one more guy tries to grope me, I will make him wish I hadn't won the Games.

Snow smiles a fake smile similar to mine, but his eyes are threatening.

"Maybe you should attempt to like it. I see a lot of it in your future."

The smile is still there but the friendly tone isn't.

I am quiet, running through my head the possibilities of what he's implying.

"Miss Rosary?"

"Mm?"

"Like a certain victor from Four, you are quite popular with the opposite sex. I see ample opportunities with this fact."

My stomach churns. I have no idea what Snow is talking about, but it can't be good. With Snow, it never is. He's never the deliverer of good news.

"I don't understand, President Snow."

"Here in the Capitol, our citizens like people from the districts. Of course, only the good looking ones, but well, we are a shallow bunch."

I silently agree.

"Anyway," he continues. "There are hundreds of men who will pay for female company. As we are a shallow bunch, we are also a lonely bunch. Victors are like trophies. They all want one. Combine your beauty, and you have a recipe that is sure to win. There are a lot of men who will pay a lot of money for a trophy. Especially a pretty one."

Now I know what he means.

"Let's say this is a hypothetical situation," I propose.

"Yes."

"So, if a person is told to do something, and they refuse, what would the consequence be?" I ask cautiously.

"Miss Rosary, you live under a very shaky ruling. A dictatorship, if you may. An accepted refusal could send everything toppling down. So refusals are pointless. I suggest this person does as told."

His cold voice sends chills up my neck.

"Or what?" I ask dangerously.

He frowns. "Or there will be serious consequences."

"Will this person be killed?"

"I think killing him or her is pointless. Then they cannot do the thing being asked of them. But maybe, just maybe, say their friends or family will suffer."

My stomach sinks. There is no maybe.

"I'm not sure I completely understand." I say, although I know exactly what he's talking about.

"Ah. Well, maybe I can get Mr. Odair to explain it to you. He is the most popular." He looks at his watch, a sparkly expensive-looking thing and smiles. "I am tired, and we have been out here for too long. You are the primary guest of the party, and I am the host. Let us join them once again."

He turns, and the smell from the rose in his lapel wafts up to my nose. It's worse than that pink bath slime.

"Wait." He turns back around, but is silent.

"You're lying." I state simply.

His brows knit together. "I believe I overestimated you, Miss Rosary. I have not uttered a single lie since we exited the ballroom."

"That makes two lies then."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. You stated that you see ample opportunities. That is a lie. You only see one, and you plan to use it. Sugar coating the lie doesn't change the fact that it is a lie."

He looks at me, calculating what I've said. Then he begins to laugh.

"Oh, Miss Rosary. It seems I underestimated you after all."

I smile again.

"It seems so. It also seems you have a way of leaving inevitable facts out of a conversation. I would like to know any other plans for the future that I am involved in."

He laughs again, shaking his head.

"Miss Rosary, I usually tell victors that I won't lie to them. By my standards, I keep that promise. But I see for you, I will have to up my shared information quota."

I refrain from narrowing my eyes.

"Liar," I say and then throw him a dazzling smile that does reach my eyes. I stalk off, and I can hear him laughing behind me as I yank the big glass doors open.

* * *

A/N: This is the last victory tour chapter. Technically, I will speak about the feast in eleven, but not in great detail.

Laurels Capitol outfit is based on Jessica Rabbit, and that red dress she wears. I also based the hair on Jessica Rabbit's, although Laurels hair is a reddy brown.

I did this because Jessica Rabbit is meant to be very sexy, and almost irresistible. This is the way Snow wants to portray Laurel.

AND thank you to my beta thir13enth, for helping me make this chapter so much better.

Love you all! So read, enjoy, and always, review!


	6. Calls

Finnick does call me. About a week after I've returned home, the phone rings.

Blake is fixing lunch, as he loves food and cooking, and me winning has sent him straight into heaven with all the ingredients in the world at his fingertips. I'm watching him. He seems to think he's teaching me something, but I don't really listen. I just like seeing him finally happy.

So when the phone rings, we both turn and look at it like it's an alien. We haven't had a phone since our parents died, selling it for extra cash. We both haven't heard a phone ring in years.

I jump to get it, knowing it can only be for me.

I half expect to hear Snow in the other end, but this is just ridiculous.

I idly wonder if it's Jax.

"Hello?" I say politely. Maybe they have the wrong number.

"Laurel?" The voice is husky velvet.

"Yes?" I ask carefully.

"Ah. This is Finnick Odair." Well, that explains the sexy voice. "Your sex informat?" he says with a laugh.

"Oh. Right. Let me go upstairs." I can feel my face burning.

Blake gives me a confused look, but I just wave my hand.

When I get up to my new room, which is nice, but I like my old room better. I sit on my huge bed. I feel so ridiculous. Eight months ago, Blake and I were sleeping in a single bed together because we'd sold everything already. Now I'm sprawled on something that resembles a cloud.

"Ok, I'm alone. Did Snow actually ask you to ring me?"

"I just got a call from his assistant giving me your number and a message. Call Miss Laurel Rosary; she wants to know the ropes. I saw you on television. I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"You knew?"

"Love, you look like a female version of me. That makes you irresistible!"

I bite my lip.

"I don't want to be." I whisper.

He's silent for a moment.

"We have to deal with what we're given, Laurel."

It's not a long conversation, but he gives me a secret.

"Ask them for something in payment. What I mean is, don't ask for money. You don't need it. I ask for secrets." He utters the last word dramatically.

A few minutes later he asks me if I've got anymore questions.

"No. Um, Finnick?"

"Yes?"

"I've never done it before." I whisper. "I always thought I'd only ever do it with someone I love. I haven't found him yet."

He's quiet for a little bit.

"Neither had I. But I didn't want to lose it to some Capitol freak. So I just picked a girl at home and then did it. And you're going to have to let this idea of sex equals love pretty soon. Because it doesn't. Love can equal sex, but it doesn't work the other way. Love doesn't exist for us anymore."

His voice is stiff, and I am a little shocked at the harshness of it.

As I tell him goodbye, I feel a little tear trickle down my cheek.

* * *

An hour later, I tell Blake I have to go back to the Capitol for a few months.

"What the hell for?" he asks angrily. It takes all my effort not to cry.

"Just some more victor business. Behind the scenes stuff."

He doesn't look entirely satisfied.

"I'll be back for a month and then I have to mentor, I offer.

"Already?"

I sigh.

"Yep. Seeder, Chaff, Sarai and the others need a break. Thomas and Helena are too old."

"I didn't realise there was an age limit."

"For god's sake Blake! Of course there isn't, but I am not sitting at home while a seventy-year-old man with memory problems mentors two kids! They will _definitely_ have a better chance in there without me." My voice drips with sarcasm.

"That's not what I don't like. What are you really doing in the Capitol?"

"The details aren't your business."

He swears. "Of course they are! I'm your brother! I raised you, Laurel, ever since you were nine. I would like to know what my baby sister is doing in that stupid city! Although I think I have a good idea." He narrows his eyes, looking me up and down.

My stomach sinks. My brother never misses a trick. I might be good at lying, but he's good at figuring out when I am.

"You aren't going ," he says simply.

"Yes, I am."

"What, you want to do this?" His face is disgusted.

"Fuck no!"

There is silence. I never swear. He's told me from a young age I shouldn't. Nothing to do with my gender. He thinks he's made himself dirty because he does, and he doesn't want that for me. "Laurel."

"What? You think I do? I'm doing it for you, you dickhead! He's going to kill you, or worse, torture you! And Marley, and all her kids that I used to babysit! And what about Artemis' brother and her mom? And all those younger girls I used to work with! Walessa, Kari, Yvonne! "

He looks down, stirring the pot on the stove slowly.

I storm out, knocking over a vase that falls and hits the mirror behind it. The glass shatters.

I stop, picking up the vase. There are drops of water stuck in the cracks on the mirror.

I put my hands on the edge of the little table and breathe slowly.

I can feel tears, so I look up and shake my hair back, narrowing my eyes at my reflection. I don't know what all the fuss is about. Why do they want to have sex with a cold blooded killer?

"Laurel. Don't do it. I can handle myself."

Blake stands behind me, watching me pull myself together.

"I'm not just doing it for you. So lay off. I'm doing it. I leave in two weeks. Please don't ruin the rest of my time here."

He shakes his head. "No Laurel. You aren't doing it."

I scream in frustration, turn and slam my fist into mirror. Half the glass falls out if the black frame, shattering into a million pieces has it hits the floor. I turn, my fists clenched, my shoes crunching on the glass. I can feel thin lines of blood flow from my knuckles.

"Get over yourself! I'm not your baby sister anymore! Maybe when I was nine, but I'm not nine anymore! I'm sixteen years old, for god's sake. Stop trying to protect me, because when my name came out if that stupid glass ball last year, your job was over! It's been over for years. I love you, but you need to just back off! Yes, I'm going to be a dirty little whore, but it's out of your control. It's all out of your control."

"Laurel, just let me-"

"Shut up! You aren't my father! He's dead, and so is Mum, so just shut up. I'm not your problem! Just get out!"

He doesn't move.

"Get the fuck out!" I scream, pointing at the kitchen door.

He just nods and then he leaves.

I scream again and kick the tiny table. It skids across the polished hardwood floor, making a horrible screech. It hits the huge window and makes a thick crack. I sink to the floor, my chest burning as I weep into my bloody hands.

* * *

Every day, I take something else Blake has made over to Marley.

He's been cooking like crazy ever since I yelled at him. His therapy. I wish I had therapy to deal with all this, but my therapy was carving, and I just can't bring myself to do it after what happened to Artemis.

Everyday Marley tells me no, but she always invites me in for tea, and when I get the milk for her, I just leave it on the counter. She never tells me to pick it up. I know she needs it, even though she's too proud to ask for what I have in plenty.

On Tuesday, Blake gives me a gigantic pot of lamb stew. When I knock on the door, little three-year-old Rowena answers it. She's usually not home when I drop by, but Marley told me if I'm going to bring food, I have to eat it with them, and so to come later today.

"Laurel!" she exclaims, jumping up and down excitedly. Her little braids fly around, and one hits her in the eye.

I laugh. "Ah, baby, be careful."

She just laughs and tries to take the pot off me.

"No, babe, it's really heavy."

"Not for me!"

"I think it's heavy! If I think it heavy, it's heavy."

I take her hand instead, but it takes us forever to get to the kitchen, because I have to keep moving it around. I finally just give her the bunch of blue scarves I brought over and tell her to go ahead.

Marley is knitting in her chair with the red wool I brought over yesterday.

"Oh, Laurel, please stop bringing food. We're okay."

"I know. But Blake is cooking like a machine, and I hate lamb stew, so here you go."

"You love apple crumble though, and that was the last dish."

"Marley!" I exclaim. "Just let me bring you things, okay? I have nothing to do all day. It's either cook with Blake, and he's so bossy. Or this. And you guys are family."

"Technically not. But I guess."

I think of her as family. My father's brother is the dad to all these children, and he chickened out after Marley got pregnant seven months ago. He left her starving, pregnant and unable to work, with five kids to feed, herself eating for two.

I rummage in the cupboard, looking for the kettle.

The sun is setting, and it's about six o' clock already.

"Marley, where are the others?"

"Busy, love. Harvest season is almost over."

I pop the pot over the fire, as it won't fit in the tiny oven. Rowena helps me with the tea, and I slip in the mint tea leaves I brought over. I wrap the dark blue scarf around her neck, and she's ecstatic when I tell it's from the Capitol.

Marley starts to get up, but I push her back and hand her a tea. She smiles to herself and keeps knitting.

Just as I put the hot pot on the stove and begin to dish it out in six portions, I hear the front door slam.

There are sounds of shoes clomping off and then the three eldest run through the hallway.

Adrian and Jonathan break my heart. Five and six years old, both so small, working their little bottoms off for their mother.

But Rue kills me.

Rue, barely seven, is pretty much the woman of the house. She has the intelligence of an eleven year old, and she looks after the older ones while Marley stays home with one-year-old Phillip and Rowena and the tiny baby growing in her belly.

Most night Rue makes them all dinner, baths them, and puts them all to bed, making up a new story for Rowena every night, who can't sleep without it. Then she rocks Phillip to sleep, singing to him.

Lately she's been doing all the housework too, as her mother is too pregnant to do much.

The scariest thing for me is the idea of Marley giving birth while I'm not here, which now is unavoidable, and Rue having to help her mother deliver it.

I make a mental note to bring a phone over tomorrow, so Marley can call Blake when she goes into labor. Or maybe Seeder. I'm sure she'd be willing to help.

They all crowd around the table, and I hand Marley a bowl.

Rue seems nothing but grateful that I've stolen her job of homemaker, and she loses herself in laughing and acting like a kid again, at least for an hour.

I spend ages feeding Philip, whose having none of this; I've never really fed him before.

By the time he's finally done, Rue has washed up, put more wood in the fire, and has Jonathan and Adrian in the bath.

I leave her to it; she's just as proud as her mother and doesn't accept help easily.

So I just put Philip to bed, who is having none of this either. My singing voice is pretty poor and compared to Rue I sound like a bullfrog.

By the time that's done, after a little more fussing on Phillip's part, I get Rowena from the bathtub so Rue can wash up.

She begs me to tell her a story.

"I don't know any stories."

"Please! Tell me about the Capitol."

She's all excited about the idea of the Capitol and I hope as she grows out if this naive state of mind.

"Hmm, not much to tell."

"Tell me about the tour!"

I tuck her in.

"Didn't you see it on TV?"

"Yes, but what were you thinking."

_Not things you should hear._ I think.

"Well, my favourite district was Twelve."

She wrinkles her nose, and I'm reminded of Lili.

"Why?" she wonders, as if it's the most absurd thing she's heard.

"Most like home?" Rue says, walking in and bending over, folding the clothes strew all over the floor.

"Yes. It was nice. Actually, it was worse than Eleven, but not as many Peacekeepers."

Rue looks at me, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. "What about Seven? That sounds similar, except we grow trees and they cut them down."

I think. I wasn't really paying much attention. "It is nice actually. If I had to live anywhere else it would be there. It's really green."

Rue laughs, but Rowena is already asleep. I hand Rue her scarf, give her a big hug and then leave. Marley is still up, and she whispers thanks to me as I close the door behind me.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, It's kinda a filler chapter. But we heard from Finnick and Rue! Yay!

I thought I would add her in for some back story on her life. And if you think the characters are a little unlike how they would usually would act, please tell me. I really need feedback. Especially Finnick, since he is so spontaneous.

Love you all! So read, enjoy, and always, review!


	7. Shattered

The rack of clothes stand before me, gleaming from inside their garment bags, that new clothes smell I'd never really experienced before last year wafting into my nose. Snow has decided to make a production out of this, I see.  
The rack in my new apartment, so generously provided by Snow for when I am here on business, is filled with clothes.

_It seems I am to dress myself from now on. _

Most of them are disgusting. Corsets and fishnet tights, tall leather boots and thick black chokers. There is even a schoolgirl outfit to fulfil some man's sick, dirty fantasy.

_Ugly._

Then there's gowns for when a man has paid extra, and I have to be his trophy for the night.  
They each have a date on them so I know exactly what to wear and when. And there is a black appointment book on the table next to the rack, filled with already booked requests.

_I am popular._

The thought seems to enter my head before I can stop it and I bite my lip. But it doesn't stop the tears.

"Argh!"

I kick the rack almost subconsciously, the shiny silver metal colliding with the gleaming mahogany floor with a sharp clang. I stare at it for a second, then storm off, my obnoxiously high heels clicking loudly on the floor.

_Why me?_

My fists seem to clench up on their own, and as soon as I reach the bathroom, I sink in a crouch, my head resting on my tight fists. I burst into angry, hot tears that roll down my warm, flushed cheeks.

_I didn't chose to be pretty. _

I don't want to do this. I don't want to be some fat and ugly man's date. I don't want to lose my virginity to a guy who paid for my services. I don't want to have services.  
I don't want him to be attracted to me. I'm not his to be attracted to.

_I don't want to be pretty._

"I don't want to do it." I whisper, my lip wobbling. I can see my face in the mirror, puffy and red. My breath is ragged, coming out in short, hot breaths that tumble over my honey coloured chin. I scowl in disgust at my reflection.

_I'm not even pretty._

Then, in a swift burst of adrenaline, I grab the shower head off the holder and smash it into the mirror.

_I hate you._

Shards of glass fly everywhere. They hit me, creating thin scratches that make me hiss in momentary pain, but I just close my eyes and keep slamming the shower head into the mirror. My chest shakes with sobs, and as I bring the shower head down, I cry and scream at the same time, making incoherent noises as I grunt in rage. I can't stand look at my sorry excuse for a person any more.

_I really fucking hate you._

"I don't want to do it!" I scream, sobbing harder. The reflection of myself is etched in my brain. My eyes aren't that pretty bright green anymore, they're black. Not the type of black the night sky is, or the type of black a can of black paint is. The type of black that remains after all the life has been sucked out of something. Soulless black.

_I really fucking hate you, Laurel._

"Laurel! Stop! Stop!" A voice screams. I know who it is without looking. Giovanna.

I don't. I just slam it down, again and again. A vicious snarl erupts from the depths of my throat, a noise I didn't know I could make.

"Please! Laurel! STOP!"

I sob harder. I can't move my arms anymore because I'm crying too hard, my chest burning as the sobs rattle my ribcage. My heart aches in pain.

"I DON'T WANT TO DO IT!" I shriek. I lower my arms, the shower head sliding out of my suddenly weak hands. It lands with a clunk, the pristine white tiles cracking up the middle.

_Like the cracks in my heart._

She steps forward, her hands in front of her.

"NO! Don't.. Don't touch me." I pant. "I'm bad. I haven't even done it yet and I'm bad. I'm dirty. I haven't done anything and I'm dirty. Because I agreed to do it. I agreed to have sex with some random man! He fucking paid for me, for me to make love to man I don't love. I don't want to do that!"  
I step closer to her, putting my mouth right next to her ear.  
"But it's a question. Who do I love more, myself or my family? Do I do it for them? Do I? Do I say no, and be clean? And be pure and good, but with them all dead? Either I'm fucked, or they're fucked." I drag my nail down her face, a tiny waterfall of salt running down my right cheek. "Who shall I chose?" I say in a singsong voice. "I think I'm fucked anyway." I muse. "I think I'm crazy." I say calmly. "But no one notices. To busy dressing me up, making me look pretty. But I'm crazy, I think." My voice has raised an octave in my moment of revelations.

_I'm crazy._

I shove her out of the way, her head falling back and thumping on the wooden door.

_And I hate myself._

I laugh as I stalk out of the bathroom, throwing my head back and raising my arms. "Well, maybe I am a selfish bitch after all! Wouldn't that be nice?" I say bitterly. Because there's a bitter seed in my stomach, and the tree's growing too fast for me to get it out.

_Fuck._

"Laurel? If you come back, I'll fix your scratches." She whispers, her voice trembling.

_Fuck shit fuck._

I turn, my eyes filled with spite. "Get the hell out of my apartment." I tell her calmly.

_Don't listen to me. _

"Laur-"

_Please stay._

"What did I say? Get the FUCK OUT!"

_No, don't go._

She runs out, the door slamming behind her. And I punch the wall, plaster crunching as my knuckles connect with the grey wall.

_Please come back._

* * *

There is a liquor store three doors down from my house. I saw it when I got here and now I'm utilising it.

I go in and lean on the counter. I'm careful with my hand. It's throbbing and swollen, tiny blots of dried blood on the high points of my knuckles, then crusted in a river running down the hollows between the bone.  
But he doesn't notice this. The man, who's bright yellow, can't stop looking at my chest.

_My eyes are up here, pervert._

"So..." I trace my finger down the counter. "I would like to know, what is the strongest drink you have in here?"

_Don't sell it to me._

"Erm.." He doesn't move his eyes. For the first time, I'm glad.  
I forgot my purse.

_Liar. I'm not glad at all._

"This one." He says, pointing to the fridge full of bright pink bottles. It looks like the bath slime.

"Delicious." I say. "Oh god." I moan. "I loveeee that one."

He grins. His teeth are orange. Ew.

_Save me. I'm crazy._

"Well, I do recommend it." He leans over, mirroring my stance.

_God. You wish._

I giggle at my thoughts. Oh Laurel, I think, you're so funny! I laugh hysterically. He frowns a little.

_Told you. I'm out of my mind._

"Right." I say, putting my finger to my lips. "You see, it's a little out of my price range."

"You're a victor." He states plainly.

_No shit._

"I know." I giggle again, but this time, it's sexy.

_I think it is, anyway.  
_

"But I kinda, ya know, forgot my money.." I hoist myself up onto the counter, twisting around so I'm on his side of the counter.

"You can't be back here, honey." He says reluctantly. He's looking a little lower then my chest now.

"Are you sure? You don't sound very certain." I drag a finger down his chest.

_Laurel, stop._

"I'm su-sure. You can't be he-here, on this side." He stutters.

I snort. "Course not. But who are you going to tell?"

_Stop touching him!_

"Uh-" But he's cut off when I put my hand over his mouth. I wrap my legs around his waist.

_Oh my god, what am I doing?_

"Look, I want that." I say, pointing at the pink drink. "But I'm just so, so poor right now. I need a favour." I whine.

"Of course." He exclaims, rushing to the fridge.

And it's like taking candy from a baby. When I walk out a minute later, I'm three bottles richer in alcohol.

_Oh no._

And half an hour later and two bottles are gone. I'm filled up with candy pink liquid and it burns my stomach from inside out.  
I feel all bubbly. Like I could fly. And the voice in my head has stopped talking. Maybe I drowned her.

There's a knock at the door. My head rolls back against wall.

"Reveal yourselffff!" I slur, giggling.

The door opens quietly. I reach into the drawer and pull out my knife. There's light footsteps, then a brunette head peers around the door.

"Laurel?" Giovanna says.

"I'm over 'ere." I say, holding the knife up.

"I see you." She crosses the carpet, kneeling down and prising the knife from my fingers. "Let's put this back." She puts the knife into the drawer.

"Why are you being nice to me. I'm just a horrible, horrible person."

She clucks her tongue at me. "No. You're not. You are just a little..sad right now. And that's okay. Things happen sometimes and they aren't nice. And sometimes that person doesn't know how to deal with that. Because it is a completely new experience for them, and they don't have, let's say weapons, to deal with that fight."

"But I can make weapons." I say defiantly, bringing the bottle back up to my lips.

She grabs it. "Well then, make a weapon. How much of this have you had?"

"Thatss the third bottle." I slur sheepishly.

"No more. You have stuff to do tonight. I came over to help you get ready. Maybe I will give you a French tip."

"Ohh yes pleasseeee!" I grab her, giving her a big hug.

Then I throw up all over her.

And this is the last thing I remember.

* * *

When I wake, I'm in bed. Naked. My head is pounding and my eyes are sticky. Everything is still foggy and a little bit shiny, but I'm not giggling anymore.

There is a man next to me. He's about fifty. He's naked too.

_Well, it seems I got to my job alright._ _It seems I did the job too._

I can feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. But I'm sick of crying. So I slide out of bed, my head throbbing with every movement. I slip on the dress I must have worn, a sparkly emerald green number, and disregard the disgusting red and black tights and corset lying innocently on the white carpet.

I leave it sitting in the pile, then bolt to the door. But I don't make it the whole way. I vomit all over the carpet, retching over and over again. The man doesn't wake, so I just slip out, after taking the three full bottle of wine from his table.

I'm a mess. My face in dry and scratchy, with thick lines of makeup running down it. I have bits of vomit on my dress and face. My hair takes me at least an hour to brush out, so when I'm done, I just tie it into a braid. My face is smudged with lipstick, and one false eyelash is falling off. I check my reflection in the mirror in 'my' room, then take it down and turn it around. I can't look at myself. I can't remember when it got so hard, but all of a sudden, it hurts to see my reflection.

I braid my hair, shower, then clean off my makeup. I don't feel like crying anymore. I shower again. Brush my teeth twice, then wash my hands three times with massive pumps of the neon orange soap.  
Then I shower again. I eat some lunch, which is delivered at twelve thirty. I shower again. I feel so dirty. Like I'm covered in mud and it won't come off. I start on the bottles I stole. Shower. Clean up the shards from yesterday. Shower.

By the time it's six o clock, I'm piss drunk, have showered fourteen times and my teeth are minty fresh. You can't even smell the alcohol. I dress for my date tonight, then drink faster while I wait for my ride. I can't remember any of this, I just can't bear to. And I don't.

* * *

**FEBRUARY**

* * *

**MARCH**

* * *

But alcohol doesn't black everything out. When I wake up in the morning, I have dirty little memories of what I did the night before, blurry images of horrible things.

I'm a little whore.

And they like it.

* * *

**A/N:** I am guessing the schedule of the Games and following, but in Catching Fire Katniss stated that the victory tour was six months after the Games, and since it was snowing in twelve, I'm guessing it happen around late November, early December? I'm not too familiar with America's weather patterns, since in Australia, it's summer in December.

But any way, that makes the Games in early June, and depending on how long it lasts is when they leave for the tour.

Then Laurel has a month at home (January), then three months in the Capitol (Feb-Apr),

Then another rest month (May).

Then June; Hunger Games!

So there you go. A little outline of the story. Now you kinda know whats going to happen next!

Thanks to my beautiful beta, thir13enth, who helped me make this chapter better, and for letting me know where my major flaws are so i can fix them. ilysm! :)

Love you all! Read, enjoy and review!


	8. Headlines

President Snow took a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving the quivering individual in front of him. He breathed in, the faint smell of roses only slightly evident in the room. He'd been covering himself in the sickly sweet, scientifically enhanced flowers for so long the smell was hardly noticeable to his conditioned nose.

"Do you wa-"

Snow raised a hand to silence the young man. "When did this occur?"

"12th. Last night." His lip trembled.

"I guess, Trom, it is true." Snow said, rising out of his chair.

"What is, sir?" The mans curiosity seemed to outweigh his fear of over speaking.

"There is only so far you can bend something before it..." Snow picked up a wooden ruler and bent it. "Snaps." The wooden ruler broke in half, a sliver of wood hitting Trom in the head.

President Snow put the two halves of wood down, slid a book out of the loaded bookcase, and resumed his seat in his velvet, high backed chair. He called it a throne, and how right, as he was a king.  
He leaned over and pressed a button.

"Trina, send someone to check on Miss Rosary's house. She needs a complete new bathroom, from all this news."

"Of course, Mr President."

Snow turned back, took another sip of his tea, then smiled at Trom. Inside, he was boiling. He was dealing with things he shouldn't have to. What did his masses of assistants do all day?

"Is Miss Rosary stable, Trom?"

"Oh, yes. She is still unconscious, but she's alright. Her head received a pretty big blow, so she has a concussion. But other than that, and the stomach pumping, she's fine. Just a scratch above her eye, and the scars, but they are healing. Although maybe someone should be watching her alcohol intake."

"I'm not worried about her if she's not dead." Snow opens the book in front of him. "Leave now."

Trom stands, and all but runs out of the room.

"Trom?" He says

"Yes sir?"

"Send someone to watch her after she gets out of the hospital. And, get rid of the troublesome boy in her room. Mr Mirren has other things to do. Inform him of this."

Snow dismissed the young man with a flick of his hand. As soon as he left, he pushed the book away and opened one of the many drawers in his desk. He pulled out a yellow folder, quickly re-scanning the review.

* * *

_On April 12th, approximately seven pm, Giovanna York, Miss Rosary's stylist, entered Miss Rosary's current residence; an apartment on Darling Avenue. She stated she encountered silence upon entering, and after calling Miss Rosary's name multiple times, ventured into the bathroom. There she claims she found Miss Rosary lying in the bathtub. There was a large pool of blood in the tub, and the shower curtain rod was on top of Miss Rosary, a rope still tied to it, her neck still attached to the rope._  
_It is believed that at six-thirty pm, Miss Rosary hung herself._  
_The rod she'd attached the rope to snapped, and she fell. She hit her head on the side of the bathtub, and was knocked unconscious._

_Miss Rosary suffered blood loss to her head, a concussion and has many bruises. She also sprained her wrist trying to break her fall. Upon an examination, the patients stomach was pumped, after a nurse found large amounts of many different types of alcohol in her system, and a overdose of pills were taken approximately five minutes before the hanging._

_Miss Rosary is stable and still unconscious due to multiple antibiotics and concussions._

* * *

President Snow put the file down.

"What a silly girl." He murmured, putting the file back in the drawer. "Overestimation is deadly." He sighed, thinking back to a time when he believed Laurel a clever girl.

* * *

A/N: This is a very short chapter, I'll post the next one tomorrow to make up for it! Love you all!


	9. Tributes

**A/N: I'm so sorry about my long lack of update. I lost the next chapter and completely lost the will to rewrite it. This is actually meant to be chapter 10, but I think it makes sense as chapter 9. (I've edited it to make sense.) Enjoy! **

* * *

_The reaping goes by as a blur. All I can remember are the kids names, Zachary and Bethany. I board the train with a heavy heart, but I think I'm ready._

Chaff wanders off to the liquor compartment before I even board the train. So I sit by myself, thinking about what to say to these kids. I think about going to get Chaff and telling him to stop drinking, but I doubt he will listen to me. I hardly have the right to tell someone to stop drinking; I'd had my stomach pumped only last month for overdosing on alcohol.

But then again, it's one thing to abuse yourself, but if someone else's life is on the line, it's different. You don't have the right to make decisions that might end another person's life. Only your own.  
As I ponder on this, I realise that I must still have morals after all.

Lili enters and I suppress a groan. I feel as I only was just rid if her, and now I have a large amount of time with her again. She skips over happily and then pauses, frowning.

"Where is he?" She exclaims exasperatedly.

I silently point behind me and she stomps off, muttering loudly about middle-aged children.

I can see Zachary and Bethany being escorted onto the platforms with Peacekeepers on their every side. I can feel the panic rise up in my throat, so I swallow and sit on my hands, taking a deep breath.

The Peacekeepers shove them in, Zachary falling over and his innocent eyes fill with scared tears.  
I feel a sharp pang of pity in my stomach, but Bethany helps him up before I can even move. She gives him a quick squeeze, then they sit down in the booth in front of me.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, but I know they're not. You can't be.

They shake their heads in unison. I nod.

"Okay, well...er, do you, um...oh I don't know. Um, what do you want to know?"

Bethany looks back at me, big, angry eyes shining bright. "You don't gotta to bother, Laurel. We're goin' to die either way."

I am silent for a moment, my brow furrowed.

"I don't think so." I growl. "I will do everything in my power to bring you home."

She just shrugs.

"How old are you? Both of you, how old?" I ask sternly.

"Imma be fifteen in July."

"Twelve. It's my birthday today." Zachary whispers.

Oh my god, thats horrible. But it's possible. You can't take tesserae until you're twelve, but you would still be entered into the ball. I can't bring myself to wish him a happy birthday.

I look at him, then her. "Look, I know I'm not the best mentor you'll ever get, I'm no Career and I don't have a vast expanse of knowledge about these things. But I just won this thing, what, six months ago? And that's no small feat, but I did it. A thin, scrawny fifteen year old from the poorest part of Eleven won the Games. I'm here, you _will_ make use of me. I am not going to sit by and watch you die. Now, you eat," I point at the feast laid out on the table. "You go to your quarters and sulk, or you fight. What will it be?" I sound like a school teacher, but I'm still in shock after finding out that Beth has given up so quick already.

"I'll stay." Zach says determinedly.

Beth groans, obviously torn by Zach's decision. "A'right." She says, after a minute.

"Okay then. First thing, please don't light a fire. Not if you can help it." I say, thinking back to Lorenzo. "What are your strengths? Can you climb, swim, fight, what?"

"I can't swim." Says Zach, his voice bursting with panic.

"No, it's fine. You can climb?" I ask, knowing from the look of both of them that they can.

Two nods.

"Beth, what's your weapon?"

She looks at me cluelessly. "Who you think I am, Goliath?"

"Zach?" I ask helplessly.

He shrugs.

"Okay." I think for a minute. "Then try every station at training, until you find something you are good at, or you like. Nothing too heavy. Don't show off."

"Alliances?"

"Worry about that a bit later. After you meet people. Now, the chariots..."

* * *

Jesus Christ. These Capitol people are just getting stupider and stupider.

Beth and Zach are dressed as apples. _Apples_.

_Lord, give me the strength._

Zach, at least, looks adorable. The suit is a little big for him, so he can't bend his arms. There just sticking out. He might look cute, but he must be very uncomfortable.

Beth looks horrible. She's tall, and although she's still got an innocent face, she looks too old to be wearing an apple suit. Paired with the horrible sneer she has on, she looks like a rotten caterpillar that has claimed the apple for her home.

At least she's stubborn. If I can get her to change her attitude, she'll have a chance. She reminds me of myself, before all the fight was sucked out of me. She pretends to have given up, but I know what that feels like, because it's what I've done, and she hasn't given up. Not yet. I'm fighting against it, pushing the feelings of early defeat that wash over her back to where they come from. But I'm not doing well, Chaff is useless, not lending a single hand to help me. And they can see, even with their innocence, that although I'm fighting for them, somewhere deep down, I'm useless. I'm trying, but it's not enough.

But, somewhere inside of me, there's a little fight left. It's been there ever since I woke up in the hospital, and I'm reaching for it. I just can't quite get there. Not yet.

I help them up onto the chariot, as no one else seems to care. Chaff is long gone, Lili is hovering; but not helpfully and the stylists are off talking to other stylists. I bend down, stopping Zach. He reminds me of Rue, so determined, even though he knows he's fighting a losing battle. His eyes are permanently full of fear that shines with the pure strength of what he's feeling.

"Don't worry. It's easy!" I assure him, smiling.

"Yeah right." Beth scoffs, adjusting the suit. I give her a look. I know she's not particularly fond of me, but she doesn't have to scare poor Zach more than he already is.

I sigh as I turn back, seeing his eyes shining brighter with a fresh wave of worry. I kiss him on the head and whisper in his ear, "Don't listen to her. She's just angry 'cause you look good and she looks horrible." He giggles, but it's more from nervousness.

Beth glares at me.

I smile back. If she's as similar to me as I think, she won't warm up to me. And I'm not in the mood to make an effort to prove myself wrong.

"Alright, hold hands." I direct.

"Eh, what?" Beth exclaims. I roll my eyes. She treats Zach like a brother, unless its a suggestion from me. I hope I was never this rude. I must have been a nightmare to poor Seeder.

Zach senses the tension, and grabs her hand. "C'mon Beth, I'm not that bad, am I?" He asks quietly. My heart aches.

"'Course not Zach. But why we gotta hold hands?"

I scowl, matching her facial expression and mimicking her. "Why you gotta question me?" Her scowl deepens. I lower my voice. "Because no one is going to want to sponsor two sour looking apples. So we have to deal with what we got. They like it when you look closer. Look, just hold hands, alright?"

Beth looks back defiantly. I lean over and speak in a hushed undertone so Zach can't hear me.

"Bethany Sorez, you take that boys hand or you won't have one. I've just killed four people, you wanna make it five?"

She takes his hand, still scowling.

"Try to smile. You too Beth, it's that thing you do when you're not scowling. Makes you look half decent."

She begins her retort, but she trails off, looking over my shoulder at something with wide eyes. I whirl around, to find myself a little too close to Mr. Finnick Odair himself. I stumble backwards and he grabs my wrists. I'm not surprised at Beth's look. He's wearing a suit. He looks, er, very, uh, handsome...

"Miss Rosary! I thought I spotted my long lost twin across the room. I know it's bad luck to meet your doppelgänger, but I just couldn't resist." He licks his lips, smirking. His sea green eyes sparkle. God, I really look like that? I'm not really attracted to him, but you can't deny he's gorgeous. _And people say I look like him. _It's a pretty good compliment, if I do say so myself.

I roll my eyes. "I think your doppelgänger has to be the same sex as you. And I'm a little busy." I cross my arms over my chest, hiding my ample cleavage. I didn't dress myself tonight, and I'm wearing a tight, strapless yellow dress.

"I see that. Cute outfits, guys!" He calls to Beth and Zach. I hit him on the arm.

"Don't! Have some pity!" I hiss. "I doubt they are competition to your tributes anyway." I say, sneaking a glance at the two, a tall girl around my age with wavy brown hair and kind green eyes, and a boy, around the same age as her, stocky and built well, his eyes far from kind. Yeah, I reckon Zach will ruthlessly kill them both. I can see Jax connect with my eyes from behind them, and I look away.

"Oh, lighten up. They do look cute." He says, his velvet voice sincere.

I suppress an eye roll and turn back around. He's persistent, although I'm not sure why. He slides in front of me, so his eyes are locked on mine, the sea green pools only a few shades lighter then my usually bright eyes.

"You're acting annoyed," he muses, "but your eyes are sparkling. They weren't doing that before I came over." He says triumphantly.

I smirk. "How would you know?"

"Well, I was looking at you." He says unabashedly. "They were...black. But still green, just..." He says with a frown. "...dead." Finnick finishes.

I just smile and step around him, but he's quick, following me.

"Where's Chaff?" He inquires casually.

"At the bar. I don't even know why he came." I sigh, rubbing my forehead tiredly. Mentoring is exhausting. I wish I hadn't been so difficult to Seeder last year, now I see how irritating Beth is.

"I know Chaff well enough to know it's for the free liquor."

"I would have bought him some just so he'd stay home and I would have some decent help." I say, annoyed.

Finnick's quiet for a bit. "You're different." He says seriously, his eyes darkening.

I look at him irritably. "How can I be different? You've never met me before!"

He looks at me for a second. "I don't know. On the television; you're happy, excited about winning. I never bought that bullshit. On the phone, well, you sounded very young on the phone. Scared out of your wits. In person, you're...different again. It's like there's three different Laurel's. "

"Mr. Odair," I say, mocking him. I step around him again. "I don't have time for your poetic crap. Think about how weird I am another time. I sounded different on the phone because I was different then." I gesture at his chariot. "Your tributes are waiting for you." I point at them, their faces expectantly looking at him. I position myself against the carriage so he can't step in front of me again.

He turns to leave, but spins back around again, leaning down slightly. He's only slightly taller than me. He puts his mouth at my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck.

"But see, your eyes are still sparkling." He says proudly.

And I can't help but laugh as he saunters away.

"Laurel?" Beth's voice floats down to me.

"Mm?"

"You ain't gonna get with him, are you?"

I snort. "Absolutely not."

"He seem a bit distracting, is all. He is pretty though." She murmurs, watching him walk away.

I snort again. "Seems the only one getting distracted is you."

She blushes and turns away. I laugh softly. I wonder if we'd have been friends under different circumstances. We are around the same age.

Chaff stumbles over, reeking of alcohol. I sigh loudly.

"Don't be like that, Laurel. No one asked you come this year." He slurs, irritated.

"No one asked you to, either." I snap, pushing past him and storming off.

Truth is, this is scaring the hell out of me. I feel like I'm right back in the Games again, my nightmares are getting worse and I can feel the anxiety creeping back up on me again. I can feel a panic attack coming on, stress rising in my throat.  
_God, Laurel, get it together_.

I brace myself on the edge of a random carriage.

"Laurel? Are you okay?" Jax looks down at me, his eyes full of concern. He's so tall.

"Yes. I'm okay." I take a shaky breath. "I just need some quiet, that's all."

"You aren't going to get it here, love." He takes my elbow, leading me over to a empty corner.

"Jax, I'm fine. I don't need your help." I growl. I can see people looking at me, Finnick's aqua eyes filled with curiosity. Twelve's mentor, Haymitch, even stops laughing with Chaff and stares at me drunkenly. Enobaria's horrific sneer makes my heart skip a beat.

"Laurel, stop pushing me away. I'm just trying to help you."

"I just told you, I don't need your help. Piss off." I push past him, ignoring the stares.

God knows I'm trying to, anyway.


	10. Confusion

Interviews go smoothly. Beth is slightly standoff-ish, but otherwise she's quite pleasant. The rude bitch attitude is just an act. Zach wins them over with his big eyes, saying quietly that he'll miss his family when he dies. The whole audience takes a collective gasp and then the vast room is silent as a stone.

My eyes fill with tears, my hand clamped over my mouth.

"Well, you don't know that you're going to die!" Caesar exclaims in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I hope not." Zach says earnestly. "I really love my mum and dad, and my mum just had a baby. I don't want to leave my new sister before she knows me."

The stadium is silent for a split second, then eighty percent of the crowd begins yelling angrily. A tear spills out of my eye.

Well, you may have just won some sponsors, Zach. I think bitterly.

"He's milking it." Finnick voices floats over my shoulder, the warmth from his body radiating over my arms.  
I wipe my eyes quickly.

"I didn't know that, " I say sadly. "About his sister."

"We learn something new everyday." He says gently, studying me intensely.

"Oh, Finnick, please. I told you before, study how weird I am later."

"Why? Do you find me distracting?" He murmurs seductively.

"Not really," I sigh. "Just irritating."

He feigns hurt, gasping dramatically and putting a hand to his chest. I roll my eyes, but it's not as effective with a smile.

He sits with me for the rest of the night, and I catch him looking at his female tribute a few times.

"Isn't she a bit young for the charms of Mr. Odair?" I tease.

I get a blush out of him for the first time, but it's a momentary win.

"I don't seem to have any qualms about flirting with you, now have I? Annie's older then you, seventeen. And she's probably going to die." He says a little sadly. "I'm not getting attached."

I am quiet, thinking about his explicit honesty.

"She's hot too."

The speck of respect slips away as I roll my eyes again. I seem to do that a lot when Finnick's around.

"Although," he says, "maybe I should stop flirting with you. Jax doesn't seem to realise I don't mean anything by it." He jerks his head towards Jax, whose blue eyes are sending icy daggers at Finnick and I.

I scoff. "What does he care? Anyway, why would I bother with you?"

He opens his mouth in shock. "I'm hurt!" He says cheekily.

"Whatever. Firstly, you'd just shag me then move on. Secondly, you're too old for me. Thirdly, they're right, you look like my brother. That's just wrong."

"Your probably right about the first one. But you know the real reason for that." He murmurs. "Secondly," he mimics me, "I'm only nineteen. And, it's so wrong, it's right." He whispers, leaning over me. "And Jax li-ikes youuu." He says in a sing-song tone.

I frown. "I hope not. My best friend was his dead sister. That's a bit of a complication."

"Finnick!" I see the boy tribute from Four calling him over.

Finnick winks at me. "It's only a complication if you let it be."

"But I don't like him..."

But my reply is lost on him as he jumps up and leaves me sitting alone. I'm left wondering if my reply was needed. Finnick knows already what I really think.

The evening before the Games, Zach asks me to tuck him in. He spend forever asking me to get him things, probably trying to hold off sleep so the morning comes slower. I tell him it's going to come either way, and he should try and get some rest.

When he finally lets me leave, I slip into my room, exhausted, to find Beth crying on my bed.

"Tell me everything," she pleads.

"What?" I ask, sitting next to her on the bed. We don't feel the same age. I guess I've grown up faster than I should have.

"About the Games. Tell me all the things you told me before. I can't remember any of them."

I hug her. "You'll be fine. Just remember to run. Don't get caught in the blood bath. It's not worth it. I ran." She nods, sobbing into my shirt.

She sleeps with me that night. I stare out the window all night, feeling her even breath rattle the bed softly. I think about Finnick, how he looked at that girl with sad eyes. I think of honey coloured hair and icy blue eyes, wondering if it really isn't that complicated after all.

_Of course it is. I'm a whore. Whores don't have boyfriends._

* * *

The room is big, grey and industrious. There's a panel filled with buttons and wall full of screens, twelve of them. So I can watch every aspect of the Games. I heard that I get to see the raw, uncut footage. I'm not sure, since right now the cameras are panning over the landscape as the tributes are waiting in the Stockyard.

I'm shaking. I'm worried about little Zach, and how he's going to get out of the bloodbath. I'm worried about Beth too, but she's smart. If she runs, and gets her sword, she'll be fine.

I'm rooting for Beth. I think she has a chance at winning. I love Zach, but deep down I know he's a goner. He's too scared to pick up a sling shot, let alone touch a knife or a bow and arrow.

The plates are raising up and I search frantically for Zach little braids and Beth's brown curls. I find Beth first, and she has a confident smirk on her face. Where did that come from?  
Zach's not as composed. Even as the camera zooms out, I can see him trembling, eyes wet. Poor baby. I frown. I can't sit, pacing along the metal floor. The room feels dead, alone. Chaff is getting me a tea, finally off the drink after I attacked him this morning. Literally.  
I pushed him up against the wall and spat some empty threats at him.  
He's much bigger than me, but his body is deteriorated, wasted away from his excessive alcohol intake. And having only one arm isn't the best for defense.

Actually, I don't think he's coming back. I might've scared him, but the lure of alcohol is stronger than my hollow threats.

I'm angry, not scared, I realise. There's no way I can do this every year. Watch pair after pair of kids rise up on that platform. Chaff must be laughing at my determination to help these kids. He's probably remembering how he tried to help, but couldn't stand it and stopped. He's just treading carefully around me, waiting for me to give up just like him.

I sink into the leather backed chair. The count is at thirty seconds. I have one sponsor, a measly donation for Beth. Another comes in, a bit bigger. _24, 23, 22..._ The arena is like a upside down dome, steep hills creeping up the sides. In the lowest point is a small lake and to the right is the Cornucopia. The tributes are arranged in front if it.

_15, 14, 13..._

I stare at Zach. He's frozen, unmoving in a loose standing position. He's lost the sponsors he won at the interviews. Everybody else is in a poised running position, waiting for the gong.

_10, 9, 8..._

My heart pounds. I automatically search through the arena for good hiding places, ample food sources and check the Cornucopia's contents.

_5, 4..._

Beth leans lower, I lean forward, and Zach is unmoving. One is eyeing him up and down, wondering if its worth it. The hungry look in his eyes makes me think he'll settle for any sort of kill.

_3, 2.._

There's a series of booms, and I rip my eyes away from eyeing up Two. The girl from Eight is gone. Land mines went off, and I see in a replay that she dropped her token, a little wooden ball. I can't even see her. She's just blood, skin and bones, compacted into a pancake on the ground. Theres little bits of her body in other areas, flung wildly at trees and hitting the Cornucopia. I dry reach, struggling to keep my rich breakfast down.

_1._

The gong sounds. Beth is off, grabbing a pack near her and speeding off. I silently scream at her. Yes!

Others are not so fast. Most of the Careers are sprinting for the weapons, but I see Annie hesitate, looking shockingly at the splattered remains of the girl, then speed off. But it's long enough for me to gain a bit of respect for the brunette. I like her, I decide.

Many others follow suit. A few look at the remains, then run off. But there's a few; about six, including Zach, that just stand there and stare.

And that's how they all die. The boy from Two, who looked smaller than the rest of the Careers, reveals the reason why. He's an archer, and a skilled one at that. He picks the frozen tributes off, and the girl from One throws a few knives. Zach falls back, an arrow plunged in his heart.

I sit still as a rock, my mouth fallen open. Gone, in a matter of seconds. A tear falls from my eye and then I stand, shoving the chair over. It thumps to the floor. I allow myself a moment of anger and then pull myself together. I'm in control now, and I'm not letting myself fall into that deep, dark hole again.

I knew Zach wouldn't win. But I didn't think he'd be gone this quick. I search the screens, and I catch Beth running, ahead of everyone else. The boy from One had been running after her, but she was much faster. He stopped pursuing her, falling back to join the bloodbath.

Beth's success is bittersweet. I'm not sure how to feel, happy and proud of her, or angry and sad for Zach's lifeless body.

So I cry, watching Beth closely. She doesn't stop running for ages, only slowing to walk as the cannons sound.

_One, two, three, four...ten, eleven, twelve..._

_Fourteen_.

More than usual. The clumsy girl has caused more deaths than her own. Only ten left already! Maybe this will end quickly.  
I doubt it. The Gamemakers will drag it out. I'm just glad that all this excitement will ensure some peace.

* * *

It's nighttime, and I'm sick of this grey room. I've been in here for two days straight, dozing in the couch in the corner and only leaving to grab some food or use the toilet.

I'm overworking myself. I've got my eyes trained on Beth 24/7, watching for threats. I know it's useless, but I can't help it. Finnick keeps teasing me about it.

When I finally leave without a purpose, it's eleven-thirty at night, but the city is still bright with lights. I spy Jax smoking a cigarette a little while away and turn on my heel, but he calls out to me.

"Can't you at least stop avoiding me?"

I flinch, my face burning. I have been avoiding him, but it's mostly when I come out. I don't hide in there. _That would be ridiculous._

"I'm not avoiding you." I lie.

"Yes, you are. You turn around every time you see me."

"Fine." I exclaim. I walk over to him. "That's a disgusting habit, you know." I chastise.

"I don't do it enough for it to be a habit." He retorts.

"It's still not good for you." I tease.

"Looks who's calling the kettle black."

"Excuse me?"

"Your habits aren't very healthy either." He murmurs.

"You said it wasn't a habit." I grin.

"What're you, bipolar or something?"

This brings about a sneer, but I don't answer him. I just put my nose in the air. He laughs a little, but his eyes are serious, the icy blue genuine.

I sigh. "Probably." I admit. He smiles, a nice smile, amused, not faked for cameras. I see too many fake smiles these days.

"I was kidding, you know." His eyes fill with concern.

I shrug. "I know. But I guess I have been a little unpredictable of late."

He looks down, but I can see I'm right.

"I'm sorry." My simple words are genuine, but strained. I hate apologising to people. I'm always embarrassed at myself for the fact that I have to do it. It's not the apologising that bothers me. It's the fact that I did something that I need to apologise for.

He just smiles that smile again, and I know I'm falling hard. _Shit._ I thank him for the smoke and attempt to walk away, but he takes my arm.

"Laurel, why are you so closed off? I know you don't need help, I get it, but we can still be friends." He pleads.

"I don't think so." I choke.

"Why not? I like you, Laurel."

His words are completely platonic, but they hit somewhere else entirely.

"I can't just be friends with you. It hurts too much." I mumble, my cheeks aflame.

When he kisses me, it's gentle, unlike the men who pay for my love. They kiss me rough, hard and desperate. His kiss is soft, like he thinks I'm breakable. It's desperate too, but not with filled with lust.

It's amazing.

He doesn't grab my hair or pull me closer. He doesn't touch me on every inch of my body. He doesn't violate my rights.

He just gently rubs his thumb across my cheek, and with this, a soft, involuntary moan erupts from the back of my throat. He groans a little, and I pull away, the noise somehow awakening me to what I'm doing.

"Oh god." I say, pressing the tips of my fingers to my warm lips. "We can't do this. It's just going to hurt you."

"Why would it hurt me?" Jax asks, his blue pools boring into me.

"Because I'm...you know what I am. I can't do this. It can't be allowed." I say hurriedly.

"I'm sick of rules!" He growls, running a hand through his hair. Oh no. I really want to kiss him again.

I pull my eyes away from him, determined not to let him distract me. I can feel in my gut I'm about to say something stupid, but when has that ever stopped me?

"Jesus, Jax. Rules are made to be followed. It doesn't matter what you're sick of. I'm sick of doing a lot of stuff, but I'm not going to stop doing it. Maybe you should start following them, because whatever you broke before got Artemis killed!"

His eyes flash with anger.

"I didn't kill her! I wasn't there in the arena with her. Not all of this is my fault!" He barks angrily.

I gape at him. "You expect me to take all the blame?" I ask incredulously. "Cause I'm not going to. The Gamemakers sent that rabbit. Dynasty killed her, you did something that sent her there! Someone started the Games, long ago! I may not have gotten there fast enough, but don't you dare say I didn't try to save her. Yes, I was a coward and didn't stay with her as she died, but then I would've been dead! And I wish she could take my place everyday, of course I do. But don't you dare imply that it's my fault." I growl, a few strands of hair falling over my right eye.

Jax is just as fiery as me, just as quick to anger. "I didn't know that it would happen, okay? What I did wasn't even bad, they just wanted to make sure I didn't do something worse! Oh, yeah, sure, when I did it thought, oh, Artemis might die for this, yeah it's all good! I didn't think she would suffer, okay?" He says through clenched teeth and then his eyes soften. "I know you're not to blame Laurel, but please don't say I am. I can barely live with myself knowing she's dead. I know I'm a coward, pretending that it's other people's fault, but I don't know what else to do."

"It was Dynasty." I say helplessly. Because I don't want to take the blame for it any more than he does.

He gives me a weak smile. "Let's just say that." But we are lying to ourselves. Dynasty shouldn't have been able to touch her. And that's where we come in. We should've been better hidden, but I was holding her back. And he shouldn't have done something to put Artemis in danger in the first place.

"Laurel?" Comes his soft murmur.

The sky has gone quite dark, and all I can see as I turn to him is a dark silhouette.

"Yes?" I reply.

"I know you told me about what he's making you do, but I don't care. I'm confused, I mean, if Artemis didn't die, you wouldn't be here now, and I don't know what I should be feeling right now..."

"I don't think we can do this Jax." I whisper.

He looks so confused and sad and torn that my heart just breaks in two. I bury myself into his body, wrapping my honey arms around his broad waist. He puts his chin on my head and I revel in this warmth, this bliss. Because there is no way it will be this simple again.

Then I pull away, not resisting another kiss. I've never been kissed so gently before, so caring.

_Don't get used to this_, a voice in my head says.

I pull away, and his eyes are the softest I've seen on him.

"I'm sorry." I say, my voice breaking.

Usually I'm the first to turn and walk away, but Jax does this time. I watch him walk away, my stomach churning. Then I run back to the industrial, dead room and cry, watching Beth sleep restlessly


End file.
